Righteous Ascent
by Allard-Liao
Summary: A mercenary unit, fresh from a stunning victory, jumps to their next home...only to find that Fate wants them elsewhere, on a mission to save humanity. Are they up to the challenge?
1. Something is Wrong, Very Wrong

Late 3081

Location: Terra

"Helmsman. Status?"

"Jump coordinates set, Commodore."

"Engineering?"

"Jump drive fully charged, sir, as are the reserve batteries."

Commodore Andrew Benavidas smiled and replied, "Glad to hear it." He tapped a command into his chair, engaging the old warship's public address system. "All stations. T –30 seconds to jump. Start strapping yourselves in people." His crew immediately began to obey. "That means you, too, Colonel," he added, directing the comment to the commander of the unit's ground forces.

"Your ship, your rules," the big man replied as he buckled himself into one of the jump-seats at the back of the bridge.

The two of them had worked cheek by jowl for the past five years. Benavidas buckled himself into the Captain's chair and counted down. He was the officer who gave the final order to jump. "5…4…3…2…1…Jump." The last word was slightly drawn out as reality and the fabric of space warped around the ancient Du Shi Wang battleship. The secrets of the universe were open to Andrew's examination for a split second.

A second later, space resumed its normal shape, closing off access to all of those secrets…for an instant, and then the ship jumped again. This jump wasn't planned. One of the crew began to yell, "Wormhole!" but the word was too drawn out by the jump for anyone to understand. Several of the jump-seats were torn from their mounts; fortunately, they weren't occupied. Unfortunately, one of the flying seats caught the helmsman in the head, which flew off in sympathy, and another seat caught the crewman who had connected the dots.

Tumbling out of his seat as the jump ended, the Colonel roared, "Where are we, and what the hell happened to us?"

"Navigation!"

"According to the positions of the stars, we're currently orbiting Epsilon Eridanus III, circa late summer, 2552."

"Sir, I'm picking up encrypted communications from further in-system. I'll put 'em on speaker as soon as I crack the encryption."

"Epsilon Eridani? We were jumping toward Tukayyid. How did we end up here?"

Andrew tried to massage away his growing headache. Then he stopped as realization hit him full force. "Of course. We hit a wormhole."

"Meaning?"

"We jumped right into the middle of a natural tunnel through space and, seemingly, time."

"You have got to be kidding me."

The navigation officer added her two cents to the conversation. "Confirmed. Remnants of our wormhole are dissipating off our port-aft."

"Great."

"I hate to admit it, but having Comguard personnel pays dividends."

Andrew didn't answer immediately. "Engineering. Damage report."

"Nothing we can't fix without a hammer and a few peaceful hours."

"They've certainly proven vital again and again, Jeremiah."

"Sir, I've cracked the encryption."

"Put it on speaker."

"—flagged a Corvette-class vessel on a predicted docking track with our target. Get our makeshift bomb on that Corvette, and we have our delivery system."

"Want to lend them a hand?" Colonel Jeremiah asked.

"If they need it."

"—As she's already donated her slipspace drive to the cause, the Savannah will be joining you to provide local fire support."

"What's a 'slipspace' drive?"

"Sir, encryption just changed. They know we're listening."

"Radar."

"Several contacts at maximum range, three capital ships among them. All unknown."

Andrew climbed down to the helmsman's station and started the engines. "We need to get a visual on this situation," he stated to answer the unspoken question.

"Entering visual range in 3…2…Blake's blood!"

"What is that?" Jeremiah asked as he caught sight of an immense ship that had to be at least four times the size of the battleship they were in.

A deep rumble reverberated throughout the hull as the ship accelerated to its maximum speed of thirty-two thousand, four hundred kilometers per hour. "Gunnery officer. Warm up all batteries and prepare to fire…" He was interrupted by a bright orange fireball as it blossomed beneath the unknown ship. "Magnify." Flying out of the fireball was a large piece of starship. When the magnification kicked in, the ship's name, painted on its prow, became clear: Savannah. "Radar. Did you isolate that ship's IFF signal?"

"Yes, sir."

"Model our IFF transponder signal output to parallel it. I only want one enemy during this battle. Colonel, you may want to prepare your men for a combat deployment. I have a feeling that this battle will end on the ground." He keyed the intraship comm unit. "Angels. Prep for launch." He turned off the radio, keyed the PA, and announced, "Battle stations! All hands, prepare for battle!"

"Commodore! We're being hailed!"

"By the vessel?" Jeremiah asked as he climbed down to the holotank.

"By the planet."

"Patch it to the tank."

Rather than a visual representation of the person on the other end of the conversation, a disembodied voice, the commander from earlier, rang through the holotank. "Unidentified warship. State your designation."

"This is the RAS Templar Knight."

"Who is this?"

"I am Colonel Jeremiah Biddix, founder and commander of the Righteous Ascent mercenary unit. To whom am I speaking?"

"Colonel Urban Holland, commander of the UNSC's defenses here at Reach."

"UNSC? Reach?" Jeremiah asked himself.

"Commodore! We're in range for the forward batteries."

"Fi—" He never got to finish the order. A sphere of violet energy materialized beneath the enemy ship and expanded until the vessel was engulfed. A couple of seconds later, the sphere collapsed and the central half of the ship disappeared.

"What was that?"

"They…initiated a jump. Right beneath the enemy ship. The technique I pioneered. Well done," Andrew supplied

"Colonel Holland, do you require assistance against the remaining enemy forces?" Colonel Biddix asked

"Negative. We can mop up the remaining Covenant—"

A new voice, a computerized female voice, intruded, "Slipspace rupture detected."

"Colonel, get your men onto the Overlords and get to ground, now! Angels, deploy, deploy, deploy! Gunner, fire at will!" Andrew shouted.

Jeremiah looked up and saw the reason for the rapid orders. Innumerable 'Covenant' ships had just jumped in-system…and more were coming every second. He leapt out of the holotank and bolted for the docking collar of Alpha Battalion's dropship, radioing for the battalion to muster as he ran.

Andrew began decelerating to allow the two dropships to disembark safely. A few minutes later, he heard the two familiar clangs that signaled that the Excaliburs had disengaged from their docking collars. As he laid his hand on the throttle control, he heard:

"Excalibur Alpha. We are away."

"Excalibur Omega. We are away."

"Roger that. Templar Knight moving to engage Covenant fleet. I'm gonna see if I can take out their flagship," he stated as he throttled back to full speed.

A new voice intruded on the radio. "This is Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb. Delay the Covenant fleet for as long as possible."

"Yes sir." He keyed the PA. "We have some simple orders today, gentlemen. We are to carve our way into the heart of this 'Covenant' fleet and raise as much hell, sow as much chaos as we can. This is a suicidal mission. I'm sorry that none of you were able to say goodbye to your families one last time."

"Comes with the job," one of the bridge crewmen quipped.

"Yeah. I do, however, know this. When we are finally brought down, I expect to find the shattered wrecks of at least forty of the bastards' ships burning in our wake! Hurrah!" His voice had risen to a crescendo and he threw his fist into the air at "hurrah."

Several voices came in over the radio; the dominant voice, neither Whitcomb's nor Holland's, promised, "Templar Knight, you won't be making this run alone. UNSC Trafalgar coming up from your 7 o'clock."

"UNSC Musashi approaching from your 5."

"UNSC Minotaur. We got your back."

"UNSC Iroquois. We'll do our best to keep your sorry ass alive."

"In addition to those four carriers and destroyers, four frigates' commanders have asked to accompany you. They are the Aegis Fate, the Alliance, the Euphrates, and the…" Whitcomb was cut off.

"UNSC Gettysburg. Let's bring the pain."

Andrew listened to the combined cheers of the UNSC crews and his own and wept, knowing that most, if not all, of these men and women would be dead by the end of today.


	2. Descent

Chapter Two

Major Charles Pinter sat in the cockpit of his customized Wolfhound and listened to the radio chatter from the pilot. "Excalibur Omega. We are away. Alright. Omega Battalion, we are performing a hard burn to the surface of Epsilon Eridanus II, known locally as 'Reach,' where we will be facing unknown infantry with armor support."

"Ah, we won't get to have fun," a junior Mechwarrior named Lieutenant Ormson whined from the cockpit of her Warthog LAM.

"Mavericks deploy! We have fighters inbound."

"Ooh! Yay! Mavericks, assemble at the bay door."

A minute later, the Mavericks, Righteous Ascent's LAM lance composed of three older Phoenix Hawk LAMs and Ormson's Warthog LAM, were assembled at and waiting for the 'Mech bay door to open. Ormson looked down and out the right side of her cockpit and examined the multi-barreled cannon. The Mydron Tornado RAC-5 was one of the most effective autocannons available, spitting out thousands of 75-millimeter rounds per minute. She looked out the other side and smiled. Clan tech was hard to come by, but she had issued a Trial of Possession to get Clan tech replacements for her damaged ER Medium Lasers after the Liberation of Terra. And she had won, gaining twenty of the one-ton lasers; enough to complete her 'Mech ten times over. This would be her first time using the heavy lasers, and she was eager to see their effect.

The opening of the bay doors snapped her out of her reverie. "Alright, Mavericks, let's go kill us some fighters," she whopped as she engaged her LAM's thrusters and shot out into space. Immediately, the computer began trying and failing to identify targets. "Commodore, can we get some targeting data on the Covenant fighters? I wanna know how much we have to pound them until they blow."

"Understood. Data packets inbound."

A few seconds later, the fighters were identified as "Seraphs." "Energy shielding, huh? Let's see it block this!" Ormson said as she spitted one Seraph in her crosshairs, squeezed the arm laser's trigger, and pressed the firing stud for the torso laser. The first beam caressed the shield, which flared for a second before bursting. The second beam drilled a neat forty-centimeter-diameter hole through the center of the fighter. With the power plant thus damaged, the Seraph tumbled for a second before detonating. "Fighters? More like armed life boats." Ormson keyed a broadband transmission. "Oh, come on. Give me a challenge!"

Two larger ships accelerated toward her. "Phantom dropships, gunboat variants. That's more like it." She engaged her LAM's afterburners and tried to "pounce" onto the nearer Phantom. However, almost half of her frontal armor plates crumpled as they impacted on the gunboat's shield. "Right. Impenetrable frontal shield," Ormson muttered as she carefully maneuvered around the shield and grabbed on to the frontal, oddly exposed, plasma torpedo tube. She then changed her LAM to 'Mech mode and slammed its fist into the belly of the dropship, tearing through the thin armor and grabbing hold of some of the internal structure. She then began to pull. The metal groaned as it tried to resist, and then it screeched as it gave and about half of the belly armor was torn away. She punched and ripped away another layer of armor, revealing the small vessel's power plant. She switched which hand her 'Mech held onto the dropship and pointed her 'Mech's left fist at the reactor. "Knock, knock," she said as she transformed the LAM back to fighter mode and pulled the left trigger, sending a single heavy laser beam directly into the power core. She catapulted away from the stricken ship and began rocketing to the second Phantom as the first exploded in a silent, tiny nova. A swarm of smaller ultra-light point-defense fighters, designated "Banshees," came to the Phantom's aid. The lieutenant cackled as the Mydron Tornado went to work, living up to its name, creating a cyclone of tracer shells and destruction. By the time she blew past the Banshee blockade, the 75-millimeter, depleted-uranium-tipped shells had hewn them all into scrap metal.

She kicked in the afterburners again and shot around to the dropship's six o'clock, minding the forward shield, in less than a second. "Sayonara, bastards," she growled as she triggered all of her weapons. The heavy lasers carved a figure eight in the rear armor of the gunboat. The RAC drilled well over a dozen shells into the softened armor; then came the one sound any Mechwarrior who operated a RAC didn't want to hear: the metallic *whunk* that signaled that the autocannon had jammed. Cursing, she began rapping her 'Mech's hand on the cannon's shell ejection port to unjam the gun. Her 'Mech shuddered under several impacts, and she remembered the remaining Seraphs. Alarms told her that her rear armor had nearly been breached. She spun the 'Mech, bumping the RAC against the hull of the dropship, unjamming the cannon, and speared the two Seraphs that had fired on her with her heavy lasers, draining their shields. The RAC chaser she delivered tore through both cockpits, sending the fighters drifting through space until they crashed into the remains of the first Phantom.

Ormson spun her craft and unloaded into the rear of the remaining Covenant dropship. This time, the 75-millimeter cannon did not jam. Shell after shell punched into the molten section of the armor. The first few shells detonated right as they contacted the superheated metal, which flew away with each explosion, and they opened the door for the rest of the shells to wreak havoc with the ship's internals. Her thermal sensor detected a sudden spike from the reactor. She jumped off and blasted away as the Phantom exploded. "Mavericks. Status," she gasped as the heat began to build from the immense, continuous power draw from the Warthog's fusion engine, making the air temperature in the cockpit rise from "no problem" to "sweating buckets."

"Maverick 2. Done dropped twenty of their bit fighters, them 'Seraphs.'"

"Maverick 4. I went after the big fish, one of their Corvettes and tore it apart from the inside."

There were two calls of "Show-off!" on the comm-line, but there was one pilot who failed to report in. "Maverick 3. Sound off."

"I'm here, Sir, but I couldn't answer just when you asked," came Maverick 3's thick Scots burr, revealing his New Caledonia ancestry. "Their 'Phantoms' are bluidy annoying. I've just finished destroying six of those sassanach ships and–" His message suddenly cut off.

"Celtic?" Ormson demanded, using his callsign. "Celtic, can you hear me? Mavericks, anyone got eyes on Celtic?"

"Negative, LT. He got tagged by some Covenant capital-class weapon. Advise we stay clear."

"Roger that, 4. What's your status, Excaliburs?" she asked. There would be time to mourn Celtic's death later.

"We're in atmosphere. Get your asses down here and find us an LZ."

"Understood. Maverick 2, Maverick 4, we've got a road to plow." As the two acknowledgements came in and the three Mechwarriors turned back to the planet's surface, Lieutenant Ormson wept for Celtic's death. Once they broke through the atmosphere's cloud cover and saw several of the Covenant shielded Spires that the Grafton had destroyed as its last military action, that mourning became anger. "Mavericks, form up on me," Ormson ordered, all emotion stripped from her voice, as she soared toward the nearest Spire. Once the two other LAMs were hovering within thirty meters of her, she continued, "On my mark, blast the shield with all of your lasers." Two acknowledgement lights winked green on her console. She trained both of her lasers onto one of the hexes of the shield and shouted, "Mark!" as she triggered the beams.

Eight separate beams, both emerald and scarlet, drilled into the shield. For a couple of seconds, it seemed as if the combined fire had had no effect. Then, a 180-meter-wide section of the shield failed. Moving quickly, Ormson shot through before the shield could redistribute power and close the hole. A quick glance at her radar screen told her that her lancemates had also gotten through. She turned the Battlemech around and brought her nose right alongside the nose of her number 2's Phoenix Hawk. The big man of African ancestry simply nodded, an unspoken, _For Celtic_.

The three LAMs then turned around and dived for the base of the Spire, beginning their strafing run to completely clear the zone. By the end of the run, over forty Covenant infantrymen, eight vehicles, and two Banshees lay in either blasted or burned heaps. "Mavericks, take aim on the Spire's supports." She paused as she oriented her LAM to face one of the supports. "Fire in three, two, one. Fire," she ordered as she cut loose with everything she had. The cannon jammed again, but the damage was done. The lasers from the three LAMs caressed three of the Spire's supports, and Ormson's cannon tore into the central of those three supports, blasting away about half of it. Unable to take the weight, the central support shattered, the two side supports that had taken the Phoenix Hawks' lasers bent and crumpled, and, as the Spire began to lean, the one undamaged support snapped. The combined effects sent the upper half of the Spire tumbling to the ground. "Well done—"

"Scatter!"

The three Mechwarriors immediately flew in three separate directions, avoiding the three comet-like plasma projectiles that had been aimed at them. Ormson watched the contrails the plasma torpedoes had left and backtracked the trajectory upward until she saw the ship that had fired them. "Blake's blood," she breathed, gaping upward at the large Covenant vessel that had literally just appeared above them. She then set a grimly determined demeanor over herself. "Mavericks, let's avenge Celtic. Follow me."

"Lieutenant! Those torpedoes are turning to track us!"

"How quickly?"

"Deflecting thirty degrees per second, sir."

Ormson smiled. "Good. Speed of those projectiles?"

"500 meters per second. They'll overtake us in about twelve seconds, counting the time they have to take to turn around."

"Plenty of time," she replied as she shot her 'Mech toward the cruiser. She disengaged her damage display and changed that monitor to show the area behind her. She began to track the torpedo that had been fired at her. "3…2…1," she muttered to herself. At the end of the count, she shouted, "Immelmanns, now!" as she pulled on her control stick and sent the LAM into a half-loop. At the end of the half-loop, she rolled to the left and then put the fighter-mode 'Mech into a station-keeping hover while she watched the results of the maneuver. The torpedoes, unable to turn as tightly as the LAMs, were unable to turn away from the cruiser and, thus, slammed into it with their full fury. The first two torpedoes struck the ship's shield and burned it away. The third cored through at least fourteen decks and opened a hole thirty meters across.

"Let's go in and wreak havoc, people," Ormson ordered as she kicked in the afterburners and shot her craft into the hole. "Party time. This is for you, Celtic," she cackled as she spun her 'Mech around, blazing away with all of her weapons without regard for her heat gauge.

Several dozen projectiles impacted her armor as Elites and Brutes armed with fuel rod guns combined fire with Hunters and riddled her 'Mech's legs, arms, and back with small impacts. As alarms wailed in her cockpit, she spun and used one of the war machine's arms to literally wipe the infantry off of the deck. Then more warnings blared, telling that her engine shielding had been breached by several of the Covenant's plasma grenades. One last grenade landed on the medial side of the exposed RAC ammo bin and detonated, peeling a meter-wide hole in the CASE unit. She spun again and washed the decks that were behind her with more RAC and laser fire. Then a last fuel rod smashed into the ammo bin and detonated the remaining ammo. The CASE had been built to shunt energy from the explosion out of the back of the 'Mech. With the unit breached, the explosion rippled through the LAM, and the 12.5 metric ton engine detonated as if it were a fusion bomb.

The two remaining Phoenix Hawks managed to fly out of the blast radius, but Ormson's ejection seat crushed her against the underside of the nearest undamaged deck. The Cruiser was torn apart as its own reactor detonated in sympathy with the Warthog LAM's engine.


	3. Welcome to Reach

Captain River Tan stood stock still as the technicians helped her suit up. Appraising the armor, she had to admit that it was the best armor she had ever used. Though her last suit was more maneuverable and packed on the same amount of armor, this suit was far superior in the fields of firepower and stealth. She had surprised herself when she had taken an instant liking to the armor, despite the fact that the tactics that were required to use the armor went directly against the honor code that she had been trained to use since nearly birth. She took a look around at the other combat personnel as they, too, were being assisted in donning their armor by techs. Half of the Black Legion, six of the twelve most crack battle-armored infantry platoons in the entire Inner Sphere. In fact, the Black Legion was better than some Clusters of battle-armored troopers the Clans could field. Though the number of troopers in the Black Legion meant that she commanded a reinforced battalion of battle armor and the associated company of transport VTOLs, River did not want to be a Major; Colonel Jeremiah had been kind enough to create a unique rank for her: Captain 1st Class.

Her reverie was interrupted when a tech hefted her helmet and held it out to her. She accepted it and lowered and locked it into place with a click. Immediately, info began to stream across her HUD. She looked down at the tech she dwarfed, and parts of his service record scrolled across her field of vision, along with the specifications for the Groundhog exoskeleton he—and the other techs—wore. Then the Colonel's voice boomed through the helmet's speakers. "Hellion Fury. Mount up and help the Mavericks find an LZ."

"Understood." She closed that channel, opened her command channel, and barked, "Form up, surats!" The seventy-one other men and women of the first and second companies moved into formation, separating by squads. When her command squad formed up around her, River's uniqueness became visually pronounced. Though they wore the same armor model she did, she stood over a foot taller than all of the other troopers except one. The reason for this was her difference in origin. While most of the Legionnaires had been born in the former Federated Commonwealth, River – and her sibkin Aeranna – owed their existence to a different source: the iron wombs of Clan Ice Hellion. There were a few other Clanners in the unit, but they were Mechwarriors. River and Aeranna were the only Elementals in the regiment, and that was only because of the fact that Righteous Ascent had rescued the two of them from the machinations of the Word of Blake. River shuddered as she recalled what the bastards – there was no Clan curse strong enough – had done to her sibkin. Putting the thought out of her head, she relayed the Colonel's orders to the six platoons assembled before her. Then she added her own order. "Squad leaders. Replace your AP weapons with flare guns." She then opened the channel to the dropship captains. "Excaliburs, when we find a suitable LZ, we shall mark it with flares."

"Roger that, Fury. Land where we see flares." Only Aeranna and the Colonel used her full callsign.

A quick nod in the direction of the half-dozen modified Cobra VTOLs they shared the bay with signaled all six platoons to pile into the VTOLs. Moments later, after the last trooper climbed aboard his assigned Cobra, the bay doors opened and the Cobras shot out into the local airspace, which turned out to be rather crowded. Light plasma bolts washed over the noses of the transports, causing very little damage. The Cobras, having linked up with their fellows from the other dropship, opened fire with their chin-mounted Omicron lasers. Nine Banshees were carved apart and swatted from the sky by the emerald beams. About half of the Banshee interceptors that flew past the Cobras were blown apart by the VTOLs' side-mounted Magna Mk. 1 lasers. River lifted her rifle and drew a bead on a passing interceptor. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. A second later, the shell slammed into the Banshee, which exploded in a blue-and-orange fireball. Moments later, every Legionnaire who could fired on the remaining Banshees as they began circling for another bass. Not one of the ground-attack aircraft survived the barrage.

"Captain Tan—" an unknown male began, but River cut him off.

"Stop right there. No one is allowed to refer to me in that fashion. I do not care what rank you possess. Continue."

He was taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "I am Colonel Urban Holland. Noble Team has tagged a potential LZ for your unit. I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now."

"Thank you for the information," the Elemental replied. Then she opened a channel to the Legion. "Legionnaires, split up. Second Company, head northwest. Third Company, head southwest. Fourth Company, head southeast."

"And you, Star Captain?" Aeranna still referred to her by her Clan rank.

"I shall investigate the UNSC-provided LZ site. If it is viable, I will designate it as our rally point."

A chorus of "Ayes," "Rogers," and a single "Aff" came in over her helmet speakers, along with, "Excaliburs staying on station."

The flight to the proposed LZ, locally known as "Szurdok Ridge" took about ten uneventful minutes. When the LZ came into view, the pilot pulled the Cobra's nose up sharply and bled off all forward velocity, bringing the formation to a halt. "Have to put you down early, Captain. LZ's too hot."

"Understood, Pilot. First Company, prepare for a combat drop." A minute later, the three Cobras had disgorged First Company lifted back into the air; they had decent armor, but the armor on their fragile lift jets had been damaged by the Banshees' attack run. "Second Platoon, scout ahead. Find out what forces await us."

Several minutes later, the quadrupedal battlesuits returned and their commander gave his report. "They've got innumerable infantry, most of them unarmored. Those are supported by about a dozen light tanks and a few pairs of powered-armor troopers."

"The armored vehicles are priority one targets. Secondary targets are the armored infantry. Leave the conventional infantry for last."

"Sir, the unarmored infantry are anything but 'conventional.' You'll know it when you see 'em, Cap."

"Maybe. First Company, move out!" The battle-armor unit, moving slowly to match the plodding pace of the Predator IV suits, advanced to the remains of a Covenant AA gun, through a wrecked mining facility, and to a second destroyed AA gun. That was when they hit their first obstacle: the only bridge over a canyon, which happened to be between them and the LZ, had been blown apart. The canyon floor became a flat plain about half a klick away. Getting there, however, would be an epic challenge. The drop to the floor measured over fifteen meters, more than three times the height of the tallest suits in the company. Fortunately, River spotted a shelf of rock four meters down the near rim. "Command Squad, follow me down. Trigger jump jets on my mark." She dropped down to the shelf, followed by her squad, and immediately jumped off again, angling for the valley floor. Four meters from the ground, she announced, "Mark!" and engaged her suit's jump jets, decelerating her armor to land as gently as a fifteen-hundred-kilogram exoskeleton could. She felt the vibrations as the other three troopers of her Command Squad landed.

Aeranna walked up to River and asked, "Star Captain, you do have a plan to bring the rest of the Company down here, quineg?"

River didn't answer immediately. She examined the surrounding terrain, natural and man-made, and ran a few dozen scenarios through her mind. Finally, she stumbled across a scenario in the so-crazy-it-just-might-work category of plans. "Aff, Aeranna. First Company, assemble on the ruined bridge here." She placed a nave point on said bridge. "Stay as close to the cliffs as possible. First Platoon, Assault Squad, Scout Squad, train your lasers on the foot of the bridge. Fire on my mark. Command Squad, on my mark, shoot the bridge's support braces."

"With all due respect, Captain, have you lost your damn mind?"

Lieutenant Marissa Wickham, commander of Second Platoon, replied, "No. If First Platoon times it right, we've got a one-way express elevator to the canyon floor."

"Command Squad, mark. First Platoon, mark," River ordered as she fired.

All four braces temporarily disappeared in small fireballs as the high-explosive shells from the heavy rifles slammed into the aging structures. River saw the road surface begin to glow, and then molten pieces of concrete began to drip off. She had a moment of doubt as the bridge refused to give. Then, with a resounding crack that echoed through the canyon, the road surface separated from its support structures.

The quad-platoon commander whooped, "Yee-haa!"

Then the bridge crashed into the valley floor with an impact that threw River and her squad off their feet. Picking herself up off the ground, the Elemental barked, "Status!"

"We're fine. All of us."

"Not all," countered a strained female voice in a Steiner accent.

"Ophelia. Status?" River asked as she began to trot to the fallen trooper's position.

"When we landed, my right arm slipped off and kept going." The soldier sounded oddly calm.

By this time, River had trotted around the fallen bridge and saw the former Lyran soldier's predicament. The momentum of the forelimb slipping off the edge had carried the rest of the suit with it. The two-tons of armor and equipment had landed straight on the extended limb, which had telescoped and shattered. "Internal damage?"

"My shoulder's busted, Sir."

"Can you stand?"

"Sorry, Captain, but I cannot."

"Understood. Cobra One, vector for extraction of one WIA."

"Who?"

"Hathaway."

"She just doesn't get any luck…"

"Silence," River admonished, cutting off the pilot. The minute-long wait for Ophelia's transport went by in silence.

When the Cobra arrived and Ophelia was being loaded for evac, she laid the remaining forefoot of her Predator V onto River's shoulder and said, "Give 'em Hell, Sir."

"River laid her hand on the foot and replied, "I will, Sergeant. Company, move out!"

"Black Legion, Noble team is inbound to assist in taking that LZ."

"Acknowledged, but probably unnecessary, Colonel Urban Holland."

At that moment, the first enemy pickets came into view. "What the Hell are those?"

River had no immediate answer. The soldiers she was examining were not from any recognizable unit. In fact, they were not even human. The most numerous, identified by the uploaded UNSC targeting data as "Grunts," were squat things wearing metal backpacks. The second most numerous were bird-like hostiles that were divided into three groups: shield-bearers, riflemen, and runners. The targeting data identified them as "Jackals," "Jackal Snipers," and "Skirmishers," respectively. Next were the primates who carried all sorts of blade-tipped weapons, identified as "Brutes." Then there were the squad leaders, reptilian humanoids with long, four-fingered hands, digitigrade legs, and a preference for energy-based weapons and shielding, tagged as "Elites." Finally, there were the power-armor troopers, carrying a heavy cannon and a massive shield that repelled anything less than a rocket, identified as "Hunters."

Then River began to count their vehicular assets. Twelve "Wraith" tanks formed the backbone of their armored unit and would be priority targets if the Covenant commander decided to commit all of his forces. Supporting them were four "Revenant" scout tanks and nearly twenty "Ghost" hoverbikes.

Remembering the Clan Ideal of combat, the Elemental turned on her external speakers, dialed the volume up to its maximum, stood up, and announced, "This is Captain First Class River Tan. I declare are a Trial of Possession for the land within a kilometer of this position."

The Covenant soldiers began to surge forward, but they stopped when an Elite wearing red-violet armor with a horned helmet raised his fist, the universal military command to stop. He stepped forward and, with a near-bass voice, queried, "What toes this 'Trial of Possession' consist of?"

River smiled behind her visor, pleased that this commander was honorable enough to consider honorable combat. "You determine how many warriors will defend your claim to this territory. Then I will decide how many of my warriors will dispute that claim. Winner takes all."

"Meaning?"

River's smile turned predatory. "If my warriors defeat yours, you are obligated to pull your forces back to a distance of a kilometer from where you now stand."

"And if we win?"

"Then my men will fall back and find a different LZ."

Meanwhile, the SPARTAN-III designated Noble 1, Commander Carter-259, watched the exchange from the right gunner's seat of the squad's Falcon in disbelief. "Is she trying to negotiate with them?"

"Maybe. I could drop her if you want," Jun suggested from his seat next to Carter as he stared into the scope of his SRS 99 rifle.

"Negative, 3. 2, I want you to hack into their comm system. Tell me what they're talking about."

"Copy that, Commander."

The Elite considered the offer for several tense seconds. Then he finally replied, "I believe I can agree with those terms. I will defend with…" One of his subordinates cut him off in their gruff native language.

"Stravag," River muttered as the two began an intense argument.

A moment later, the Elite commander acquiesced to the subordinate strode forward, engaged an energy blade (a weapon that had not even gotten so far as the prototype state among even the Word of Blake), and announced, also with the near-bass voice that seemed to be a trademark of the species, "I will defend our right to this territory against you barbarians."

River stood for several seconds, shocked into silence by both his Clansman-like personality and the fact that he had called her a barbarian. Then she smiled and replied, "Well bargained and done."


	4. The Duel

The former Ice Hellion Elemental drew her own sword, a vibrokatana, and flicked the switch located in its pommel. Immediately, thousands of micro-vibrations began running up and down the blade. The resistance of the air against the vibrations began to heat the blade to over five hundred degrees Celsius. She smiled as she heard the anticipatory hum of the blade. She then turned off the sword to conserve its battery while she finished preparing for the duel.

First, she disconnected the heavy rifle from the suit's target interlock circuit and drew back its charging handle, completely disconnecting the weapon from the battle-armor suit. She laid the massive weapon gently on the ground and began the next phase of preparation.

As she did so, she noticed that her Elite opponent was making similar preparations, removing his three ranged weapons and his bandolier of grenades.

River's second stage of preparation began when she disengaged the environmental seals, and the ozone-punctuated air assaulted her nose. With great care, she slid and pealed the armor off of her limbs and torso, respectively.

As she removed her helmet, she noticed that the Elite was reaching behind his back. A split-second later, his shield flared and died.

With both combatants ready, River reactivated her vibrokatana and the two strode forward, ready to engage. The thirty-four warriors of the Black Legion's First Company formed a semi-circle around River's half of the combat area, and the Elite's comrades, catching on quickly, followed suit.

By this time, Noble Team's Falcon had landed and the four SPARTAN IIIs had deployed. Carter walked to the Black Legion line and stared at the two combatants, his rifle hinging limply with shock.

"This is your first time seeing an Elemental, quiaff?" queried the warrior beside him.

He looked at her and did a double take at the massive warrior. In armor, she was easily three or four feet taller than him, making her even taller than any SPARTAN II. "I don't know what 'quiaff' means, but, to answer your question…" He trailed off as the unarmored Elemental and the elite came together in the first exchange of attempted blows, clearly showing that they were both equally massive. "…Yes."

River slowly sidestepped in a circle, the Elite doing the same, both warriors fluidly orbiting a point between them counter-clockwise.

The Elite angling his hoof toward her was the only warning the Elemental was given before the alien pushed off with the angled foot and swung his sword in a negative parabola.

In response, River swung her own sword and used it to dictate the path of her foe's blade, directing it to a position above her left shoulder. The Elite looked at the katana's white-hot blade and then back at her. "You seem surprised," she taunted as sparks flew from the swords' contact point.

He responded with a growl and a quick jab to the gut that forced River to stagger back a couple of steps. The alien warrior followed it up with a kick that planted an armored boot against the side of her head. There was a collective sympathetic groan from the human side of the circle as River was spun to the ground.

She bounced back to her feet just in time to deflect the incoming blade down and to the right, past her right hip. The old Elemental then threw her left elbow into the Elite's sternum, throwing him nearly four meters. She used the reprieve to spit out the blood and the teeth the alien's kick had extracted from her jaw. She looked back at the Elite, who had rolled over and was now coughing up a viscous violet liquid. That was when she noticed the glowing blue-white energy blade at her feet.

She picked it up carefully and announced, "Excuse me." The Elite fixed her with a death glare. "I believe this belongs to you," she finished as she tossed the sword to him.

He caught the blade as he stood back up and then immediately charged.

River calmly braced to receive the charge when the alien did something unexpected.

He planted his left foot and pushed off, shifting the path of his charge sixty centimeters to his right. Almost too late, River realized that he was going to try to cut her arm off. Reacting more by instinct than conscious thought, she tried to shift her body out of the way. She saw, however, that she could not move fast enough as the blade delivered its scorching bite. She sensed that the blade had entered behind her wrist, carved an inch-deep gash along the length of her left forearm, and exited before her elbow.

The Elite seemed confused as to why she showed no reaction to the injury…until half of the shirt sleeve fell open, revealing a molten scar along her arm.

River took advantage of the Elite's shock and dashed forward to drive a flying knee into his solar plexus, forcing him to drop his sword and stumble back. She picked up his sword and tossed it and her own sword out to the edge of the circle. She then stalked toward her opponent who was still fighting through waves of pain.

Thus, she was surprised when he sent a straight boot into her sternum and then cracked the bone with a round-house kick. She caught his foot on the third kick and twisted, forcing him to turn around, and smashed her lower leg across his back, knocking him to the ground. He sprang back up and received three punches to the chest and another to the face for his trouble. River followed them up by spinning around and driving her left elbow into the side of his head.

He spun and dropped like a stone, and the Elemental prepared to deliver the final blow. Before she could, he held up a hand and announced, "I yield," as he coughed up more of that violet liquid.

River's body relaxed. "What is your name, warrior?"

"Kusovai."

"Kusovai, you have fought very well. You even nearly defeated me. For that prowess, I claim you as my bondsman. You shall serve Righteous Ascent in a laborer capacity until either I or the Colonel reinstates your warrior status." She reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a thin, braided white cord. "This will symbolize your bondsmanship," the Elemental explained as she tied the cord around his wrist.

Kusovai was about to object when a new thought ripped across his consciousness. _The more I can learn about these strange humans, the easier my escape and their defeat will be_. "I shall serve to the full extent of my abilities."

River was taken aback a little at the Elite's ready acceptance of bondsmanship, but she pushed the shock away and replied, "Good. Your first task will be to help me re-don my armor." She looked toward the withdrawing Covenant army and shouted, "Aeranna, send the good news!"

The other Elemental nodded and opened the comm. channel. "Paladin, we have secured the LZ. Repeat, Szurdok Ridge is ours."

"Roger that. Righteous Ascent inbound. ETA: Four minutes."

A minute later, River slid her helmet on and engaged its environmental seal. She examined the joints to make sure that each still had its full range of motion. "Not bad. You possess an intuitive knowledge of how our armor fits together, Kusovai," she remarked as she adjusted a couple of improperly mounted armor plates.

His quickly-hidden triumphant smirk wasn't missed. "I have killed many lesser Demons, enough to gain a rudimentary understanding of how you humans construct your armor."

"Forgive my ignorance. 'Lesser Demons?'" she asked, thinking that it was some sort of unmanned battle armor or combat robot.

Instead, he pointed at Noble Team and replied, "Their kind."

River pondered how she would smooth that inevitable tension as she ordered the rest of the Legion to converge on the oil refinery/mining facility across the canyon from the main LZ. She activated her external speakers again and shouted, "First Company, Noble Team, clear the area! Dropships inbound!"

The Legionnaires, with the exception of River, knowing how large an Excalibur's LZ needed to be, ran to the nearest bridge and crossed the canyon to the battalion's rally point. River stayed as the flares she would use had a short lifespan. Kusovai went with them. Noble Team expected a few Pelican dropships, and, except for Kat, they pulled back to the canyon rim. Kat had a curiosity she needed satisfied.

River's armor's external microphones picked up the subtle clank of someone tapping her armor. She looked down at the "lesser demon," and her eyes widened as she saw the primitive prosthetic the warrior wore. "What did you want to know?"

"When did you lose your arm?" the woman asked with an accent that displayed an Israeli ancestry.

"Seven years ago, the Word of Blake declared a Trial of Possession for me and nine other warriors. They won, but a stray light gauss slug made contact with my elbow and my entire shoulder assembly was torn out of my body." River could tell that the warrior winced. "Yours?"

"I was delivering an explosive to destroy a Covenant base of operations when a fuel rod detonated right next to my feet. I was flipped and came down on my right shoulder…"

"Crumpling and destroying the joint," River finished.

"Exactly."

"Black Legion, Our ETA is ninety seconds. Mark our LZ."

"Copy that," River replied as she fired two flares at locations three hundred meters apart. Then she began to sprint for the refinery, firing her jump jets every few seconds for speed boosts.

Noble Team stared after her for a moment, and then they looked toward the rapidly approaching dropships. Then, as they realized how large the dropships actually were, they hightailed after the Elemental.

Thirty seconds later, the two Excalibur-class dropships, a combined thirty-two thousand tons of equipment, thundered over the plain. As they alighted with a cacophonous thud, River muttered, "Righteous Ascent, welcome to Reach."


	5. The Cavalry Has Arrived

Colonel Jeremiah Biddix stood at the foot of his personal 'Mech and smiled at the privilege his rank allowed him. The Oni was a monster, even among Battlemechs. Standing seventeen meters tall and weighing one hundred tons, it was one of the most colossal 'Mechs in existence, taller, even, than the feared _Pillager_ and _Atlas_. Its armament was similarly impressive. A Heavy Particle Projection Cannon and a 'Mech-scale Plasma Rifle formed the core of the Oni's firepower. Supporting them were a scattering of lasers, rockets, and a flamer. The Oni's heart was its nineteen-ton 300-rated Vlar fusion engine, which had a superb power output combined with superb durability. Its skin consisted of nineteen tons of Valiant Lamellor armor, which happened to be one of the best armor types money could buy without resorting to the various bulky Ferro-Fibrous materials. The Colonel looked down the line to Alpha Battalion, Third Company's command lance.

Those four warriors were the only survivors of a mercenary company called Hell's Rejects. Jeremiah knew each of them just as well as the other men and women of the reinforced regiment, despite the fact that the Rejects had only merged with Righteous Ascent just after the Liberation of Terra six weeks before the jump that had landed them in the middle of another interstellar conflict.

Their 'Mechs were sitting in their assigned gantries, arranged by seniority. The first in the line was Spectre's (He had never stated his real name.) customized Thunder Hawk; he'd had the gauss rifles replaced with their Clan cousins, freeing up enough tonnage to upgrade the engine to a heavier, sturdier light version, the lasers to Clan extended range versions, and the cooling system to thirteen double-strength freezers, and add two micro-pulse lasers for anti-infantry work.

Next was the pride of Aisa "Falcon" Thastus, a Jupiter 2 she had successfully fought a Trial of Possession for last year.

Third in line was the HGN-732 Highlander owned by Sheila Devons, a.k.a. "Mustang."

Finally, there was Robert "Bullseye" Romero's Caracal. The monstrosity, weighing one hundred tons, was unique in the regiment. It was one of only four from-the-ground-up custom Battlemechs. It was also one of the only three quadrupedal 'Mechs; and the only 'Mech to fall into both categories. Bullseye liked the stable firing platform the quad design provided. Considering the fact that the design was built around one of the largest and most powerful weapons a 'Mech could mount, a massive Lyran Heavy Gauss Rifle, that stability countered the recoil, turning the Caracal, with the addition of its ER PPC, into a frightening mid-range sniper 'Mech. In simulator battles, Bullseye had managed to almost regularly defeat the Colonel; the exceptions were the times Paladin (Jeremiah's callsign) caught Robert at point-blank range where the Caracal's targeting system had difficulty bringing the massive rifle into line for an accurate shot.

Biddix was snapped out of his reverie as Blaine Lee, Excalibur Alpha's pilot, activated the intraship comm system. "Paladin, are your folks in their 'Mechs yet?"

As he began to climb the chain ladder leading to the Oni's cockpit, Colonel Jeremiah responded, "Yes."

"Good. 'Cause we'll be dirtside in thirty seconds."

"Roger that," Jeremiah replied as he climbed into his cockpit and settled into his command chair. He connected a piece of tubing to the intake valve in his vest and gasped as coolant flowed through. _Enjoy it while you can. Things are about to heat up,_ he admonished himself as he pulled his heavy neurohelmet off of its rack and lowered it into place. He locked it onto the neck of his bulky cooling vest, pulled two wires out of the arm of his chair, and plugged them into the back of the neurohelmet.

Immediately, the automated security system kicked into gear. "Voice print required. Please state your name."

"Biddix, Jeremiah Seron."

"Voice print match confirmed. State your pass phrase."

Voice prints and even brainwave patterns could, to a certain extent, be faked, so many mechwarriors installed another layer of security: a special word or phrase the warrior had to speak in order to unlock his or her 'Mech's systems. Every pass phrase was unique, as the phrase could be any length and in any language, making the security all but unbreakable. "Live free; die hard," Jeremiah replied, quoting his personal motto.

"Pass Phrase confirmed. Welcome, Colonel," the automated female voice finished as the Oni's nineteen-ton fusion heart rumbled to life.

"Alpha Battalion, touchdown in 5…4…3…2…1," Lee stated just before the impact of the landing struts contacting the ground resounded through the 'Mech bay.

"Alpha Battalion, follow me," the Colonel ordered as he started to direct his 'Mech toward the bay door at a stately, strolling pace.

"Roger that, Colonel," his old friend, Major Bagura Lee, replied as he throttled up his customized Battlemaster and followed.

A few steps later, Jeremiah's Oni stepped off the loading ramp and strode across the field. He then engaged the 'Mech's jump jets and soared across the canyon. When he landed, he ordered, "Righteous Ascent, form a defensive perimeter around the LZ and await further orders." He then shut down his 'Mech, popped the cockpit access hatch, unfurled the chain ladder, and descended to the ground. He walked up to the warrior in darkish blue armor and asked, "How can we help?"

Two hours later, the mercenary unit had converted the refinery into a temporary command center, and the Colonel had called for a commanders' meeting. Now, in what had been the refinery's garage, everyone in Righteous Ascent who commanded a company, bearing the rank of "Captain," or higher formation, and a higher rank therefore, was gathered around a portable holotable that currently displayed a map of Viery. Also assembled were the Noble Team and, at River's insistence, Kusovai.

"Alright, people. Intelligence provided by the Spartans of Noble Team," Jeremiah began as he indicated said warriors, "and River's Sangheili bondsman have pinpointed Covenant positions at these coordinates." As he finished, well over fifty violet points were overlaid on the map. "By Noble Team's description of their weapons and armor effectiveness, a single assault 'Mech would be able to clear those camps," he continued as he swept his hand through the holographic terrain, deleting violet patches.

"But…?" asked the commander of Omega Battalion, Major Charles "Deadeye" Pinter.

"River?"

The Elemental, her replacement arm gleaming, stepped forward and inserted a data cube into the slot in the table. The map vanished, and two holographic models of quad 'Mechs took its place, rotating clockwise. "Type 47 Ultra-Heavy Assault Platform, or 'Scarab.' They are heavily armed and armored converted MiningMechs." She typed a command into the table, and the bulkier machine enlarged until it was a meter tall. "The mobile command post version is more heavily armored, possesses a more powerful main gun, and is shown here at one-one-hundredth of actual size." That drew a few curses from the assembled warriors. "That is not the worst news. Intel provided by Kusovai has enabled me to calculate the armor and firepower of the Type 47s as applying to ours. Its armor protection is about equal to forty tons of hardened armor."

Reaver, (Pinter's true callsign; "Deadeye" was just a nickname.) whistled appreciatively. "It's gonna take a long while to peel open that can."

"Yes. However, if you try to duel with it, you will most likely die. I ran the numbers and determined that it mounts a class 55 Naval Laser and two Large Pulse Lasers for anti-aircraft duties."

"An NL-55? How in the name of Jerome Blake did they shoehorn a warship-class weapon into a 'Mech?"

"The Command Scarab is practically a building on legs. Fortunately, all of that armor and firepower comes at the expense of speed. An UrbanMech or an Annihilator could outpace it." She typed in another command and the other quad, with an almost comically bulbous rear end, enlarged until it supplanted the Scarab. "The 'Shock' Scarab. It mounts far less armor, only around twenty tons, and has a smaller main gun and anti-aircraft gun, a capacitor-enhanced Clan Extended Range Particle Projection Cannon and a single Light Particle Projection Cannon, respectively. The loss of firepower and armor is compensated for by a dramatic increase in speed, well over two hundred percent, in fact. An Atlas would have a little difficulty keeping pace with a Shock Scarab."

Kusovai stepped forward to continue the presentation. "The Type 47 is heavily armored, but it possesses several weak points." He indicated the knees and ankles, which lit up at River's command. "If these locations become damaged, the Type 47 will shut down for one minute for automated repairs." He then shifted his point to the aft armor plates. "This is the weakest section of armor of the Type 47. Underneath lies the power core. Destroying the core is the only way to destroy the, as your people would term it, BattleMech. Could you bring forth the Command version?" When the Command Scarab again dominated the projection, the Elite continued, "This version can be destroyed quickly with only one method. One must kill the command crew and initiate the Type 47's self-destruct sequence."

Jeremiah cleared his throat. "So, an infantry strike is required to destroy a Command Scarab?"

"More or less."

"Show us where they are."

Kusovai nodded to River, who removed the data cube, returning the display to the map, and typed in a new command. Over a dozen points of light appeared on the map. "Last I was capable of accessing Covenant troop deployment information, there were Scarabs at each of these locations as of the yesterday morning."

"We'll deal with them later. Question, Hellion Fury?"

"With your permission, Paladin, I would like to detach a few squads to capture one of these Command Scarabs," she requested as she pointed at one of the violet lights.

The Colonel regarded her critically for a moment before replying, "Permission granted. Twelve-warrior mission. You cannot be one of them. You are too critical at this time."

River hung her head in acknowledgement. She then drew a knife from her waist and asked, "Kusovai, you can pilot a Scarab, quiaff?"

"Yes. I have been trained to operate a Type 47."

She threw the knife at him suddenly, and it embedded itself in the sheet metal behind him. He examined himself to see where he had grazed him; then he noticed the severed white cord lying on the floor. Picking it up, he examined it for a second before looking at River in askance.

The Elemental nodded and answered, "You will accompany eleven other Legionnaires, Private Bero Kusovai."

He placed his right fist on his left breast and replied, "I shall do my best."

She smiled. "I know you will. Now go. You will need to familiarize yourself with the rest of the Legion."

When he was out of earshot, Colonel Biddix began to speak again. "Orders. Black Legion. Hellion Fury, take your Command Company and assist the UNSC evacuation of the city of New Alexandria here." The area lit up green. "The rest of the Legion, sans the warriors capturing the Scarab, will, by platoons, assault these Covenant encampments," he continued as he typed in a command that illuminated eight camps a bright lavender. "I shall take my Command Company and Rolling Thunder to defend the generators for Reach's orbital platforms at these locations." Six golden circles appeared on the map.

"You're going to be spread pretty thin, Colonel," Reaver observed.

"Yes. Thus, I will be here," he stated as he tapped the site of the northernmost generator. "Along with half of Rolling Thunder's Scout Lance and Lieutenant Barber's Marauder II." He then tapped the generator site second furthest to the South. "Captains Lee and Anders, I want you two, Mechwarrior Tagge, and one of your Thunderstorm tanks here. Other assignments will be handed on site. Ourien, I want your company, reinforced by the Artillery Lance from Reaver's battalion, to be spit into lance-size kill teams and destroy as many Fast Assault Scarabs as you can. The tactics you will have to use will render your unit dezgra, but your foes are even more so and would not follow zelbrigen if their lives depended on it. Go and brief your men." The former Smoke Jaguar mechwarrior bowed his head and walked out of the headquarters. "Reaver, I want the rest of your battalion to make sure that the Covenant does not reclaim this area."

"Yes, sir!"

They then heard the heavy thumps of running 'Mechs and left to investigate. Upon entering the small field in front of the refinery, they saw the two remaining Phoenix Hawk LAMs. The 'Mechs were in horrid shape, missing at least half of their armor; one, bearing a star-and-crescent, had had both of its arms blown off. The pilot climbed down the chain ladder and reported, "We lost Ormson and Celtic."

"What happened?"

"Celtic was hit by, I calculate, a Heavy Naval Particle Projection Cannon just after we cleared the fighter screen that tried to block the Excaliburs. Then we destroyed one of their Spires, and the Lieutenant gave her life to destroy the cruiser that appeared over it. Edith and I then laid waste to several dozen Covenant formations."

"And the severe battle damage to your 'Mechs?"

"As for mine, direct hit from a Scarab's cannon. Delilah's was hit by a few Wraith mortars."

"Both of you bring your 'Mechs in for repairs. Then get some rest. You've earned it."

"Thank you, Colonel," he replied as he began to return to his Phoenix Hawk.

"And my company, sir?" asked Leroy Jenkins, commander of the Third Company of Alpha Battalion.

"Find and destroy any Covenant camps that do not have a Scarab guarding them."

Pinter and Bagura walked up to their friend's sides and the latter commented, "You know, if Andrew and the Angels can win the space battle, we should be able to win the Battle for Reach pretty easily."

"Yeah," Jeremiah mumbled as he looked up. "If."


	6. Bring Down the Dragon

The _Templar Knight_ shuddered under the impact of more than a dozen plasma torpedoes. "Damage report."

"Aft- and fore-port armor down to ninety-five percent. It's almost like they're trying to demolish us with sub-capital missiles; Barracudas are more powerful."

"Don't worry. They'll pull out the big guns soon enough. Gunner! Range to the flagship?"

"Nine thousand kilometers and closing."

"We have to survive nearly seventeen minutes," the Commodore muttered. Eight clangs resounded through the hull, signaling the discharge of six of the side-mounted and both forward Heavy Naval Gauss Cannons. He looked out the forward view port and smiled as a Covenant cruiser and destroyer were cored by the half-ton slugs. "How many Covenant ships are within twenty-seven kilometers?"

"Well over forty, sir. They're trying to box us in. And then there are the UNSC ships that are following our spearhead."

"Navigation, plot a pirate point. Close to the flagship, if possible. Close to the UNSC orbital platforms, otherwise." He then tuned to the UNSC radio channel. "All UNSC ships, clear the area within thirty-five kilometers of my battleship."

"Why?"

"Anyone closer runs the risk of being sucked out of this dimension."

"Understood. Pulling back to thirty-five kilometers. Give 'em hell."

"I plan to."

The commander of the _Aegis Fate_, a wiry woman in her early thirties name Josanna Wilmington, added, "I almost feel sorry for them."

Andrew smiled and opened his mouth to respond, but one of his bridge crew (one of the radar operators, specifically) shouted, "Commodore! One of their battlecruisers is jumping out!"

"Where to?"

"Can't t—shit! It jumped back in right in front of us!"

Stopping a nine-hundred-thousand-ton battleship moving at nine kilometers per second is impossible in a stretch of space shorter than ninety kilometers; the battlecruiser was less than twenty kilometers distant. "Collision alarm! Brace—!"

Then the venerable battleship barreled into the nose of the Covenant CCS battlecruiser. The longer, heavier violet vessel's shields flared and failed. Thus unprotected, the ship's relatively weak forward armor crumpled against the Du Shi Wang's prow, followed by the rest of the cruiser's internal structure.

Several members of the _Knight_'s crew covered their ears, trying (and failing) to blot out the horrendous screech of the two metals (the internal structure of the CCS and the armor of the battleship) scraped against each other.

Andrew, however, looked at a more pressing development from the impact. A number of of the internal structure struts from the battlecruiser struck the viewscreen, causing a small spider-web of cracks to appear in the ferroglass.

Fortunately, the time the last armor plate around the engines of the Covenant vessel finished gouging the forward armor of the mercenary ship, the glass held. Before the difference in pressure could change that situation, Andrew locked the ship onto its current course, climbed up to his normal seat, and activated the sun-shield, sliding previously-hidden armor plates up and over the viewscreen, with the added benefit of covering the ferroglass with metal and re-equalizing the pressure on both sides of the view port.

As he bowed his head and sighed in relief, the damage control officer announced, "Fore armor at seventy percent, overall, Commodore."

"Pirate point plotted, sir."

"Jump." Normally, jumpships aimed for the zenith or nadir jump points, positions above and below the star system's gravitational plane, respectively, to avoid having the opposing gravitational forces tear the ship apart as it arrived. Pirate points, however, were places where the warring gravitational fields canceled each other out, often far closer to the planets in the system than either of the primary jump points. They were called "pirate" points because, traditionally, pirates would use them to stage quick raids on planets; the points' proximity shaved days off of a dropship's transit time, giving the planetary defenders very little time to organize a proper response.

The _Knight_'s four-hundred-thousand-ton Kearny-Fuchida drive generated a bubble of energy around the ship and all of the space within twenty-seven kilometers. This included the nearby Covenant vessels. Then the nine-hundred-thousand-ton warship was catapulted through space as the bubble discharged its stored energy. The discharge caused the bubble to collapse violently, closing the entrance to the temporary wormhole it had created. A side-effect of the collapse that Commodore Benavidas had taken advantage of was that any ship caught in the bubble when it collapsed was torn apart and sucked into the wormhole; the exit of the wormhole, however, closed off before the pieces could get through, and they ended up in a separate dimension, cut off from the rest of known space. Thus, thirty-five Covenant capital ships and countless Phantoms, Seraphs, and Banshees simply appeared to vanish from existence. Five more capital ships that were only partially contained in the bubble had the engulfed sections vanish. All of this happened in a tenth of a second. Then the battleship reappeared right next to the nearest orbital platform, currently in orbit around the Moon.

"I take it there were no pirate points next to the flagship," the commodore stated with a slightly exasperated tone.

"Sorry. This is as close as I could get, sir."

"Sir! Another ship's jumping in!"

"Category?"

"Covenant Assault Carrier. It's hailing on several frequencies."

"Put it on speaker."

"—All humans. This is the Carrier, _Crusader's Hope_. Stay your weapons. We shall help drive away the Covenant."

"Ignore it. It's just a Covenant trick," ordered Admiral Whitcomb.

"Gunner, train our starboard batteries on that ship. Fire if it turns hostile," Andrew ordered as he directed the _Templar Knight_ onto an intercept course.

"That won't be necessary. Look."

Benavidas looked up just in time to see thirty-five plasma torpedoes drill into their targets…and then thirty-five Corvettes erupted into violet fireballs. "I don't think it's a trick, Vice Admiral." That assessment was confirmed as the carrier's main cannons and a second volley of torpedoes demolished three cruisers. (The external cameras automatically activated when the sun-shield was deployed.) "Comms, get me a tight-beam link with that ship." Unlike normal radio communication, a tight-beam radio link was very hard to intercept, unless there was a ship that was between the two communicating ships.

"Aye, sir."

"Radar, isolate _Crusader's Hope's _IFF signal and mark it as friendly," Andrew ordered as he began walking back to the holotank.

"Aye-aye."

"Comm link established, sir."

"Thank you." He dialed into the channel and announced, "I am Commodore Andrew Benavidas, commander of the _Templar Knight_. To whom am I speaking?"

"I am Shipmaster Lor'an Taham, commander of the _Crusader's Hope_. Is there a particular reason for this conversation?"

"I'm going to drive to the heart of this fleet and force their commander to flee. The fleet will follow."

"Then we shall do all we can to assist."

"If you can keep the Covenant off our back long enough for us to get into position, we would be most appreciative." He closed the comm channel and tuned back into the UNSC band. "Anyone who helps the _Crusader's Hope_ clear a path to the Covenant Flagship for us would be in my debt." Without waiting for a reply, he boosted the Du Shi Wang into a hard five-gravity burn (the ship's maximum acceleration) for the enemy assault carrier's position.

A Covenant battleship moved to intercept its human counterpart, raking its energy cannon across the old ship's nose. Its payment was to be swatted away by a volley from the allied assault carrier's weapons combined with full barrages from the _Iroquois_ and the _Minotaur_.

An approaching corvette met a similar fate at the hands of the _Aegis_ _Fate_ and the _Gettysburg_, while a Covenant destroyer was demolished by the UNSC carriers, _Trafalgar_ and _Musashi_.

The _Alliance_ and the _Euphrates_ took up point defense duty, tearing apart swarms of Phantoms, Seraphs, and Spirits, and lending MAC rounds and Archer missiles where necessary. Assisting the two capital ships were the thirty fighters of Angel Flight (attached to Righteous Ascent), the seventy Longswords deployed by the UNSC carriers, the seventy-five green-painted Seraphs deployed by the Crusader's Hope, and the seven surviving YSS-1000 Sabre orbital defense fighters. A combined strafing run from every single fighter broke the back of a Covenant frigate.

Unfortunately, where there are minor victories, there are also minor defeats. The Charge was no different.

As it maneuvered to pump a pair of MAC rounds or a Shiva nuke into a corvette, the _Iroquois_ was struck by a barrage of twelve plasma torpedoes, which tore open the reactor and the remaining Archer missile pods. In a spectacular double explosion, the destroyer was rent asunder and the pieces were flung across the void of space. There were no survivors. As a small consolation, the _Templar Knight_ immediately gave the responsible Covenant cruiser a ten-laser, quad-gauss enema (overkill) that also left no survivors.

A second Covenant battleship maneuvered in behind the _Knight_ and was about to open fire on, what amounted to, the weakest section of armor of the venerable warship. However, before it's weapons could charge up fully, the _Alliance_ charged into the space between the two behemoths and opened fire with everything it had. Futile though the barrage was at damaging the Covenant ship, the frigate attracted the battleship's attention long enough to draw its line of fire off of the backside of the _Knight_, even as Andrew's ship's two rear-mounted naval particle cannons carved away the rest of the violet ship's shields. Even as Andrew noted the launch of escape pods, he also noted that the _Alliance_ still maneuvered, trying to keep out of the enemy battleship's line of fire. It was a losing battle, however, and, as the Covenant vessel's main guns began to charge again, the frigate's captain hailed the Commodore and announced, "It's been an honor serving with you." As he finished speaking, the battleship's twin energy projectors flared to life and sliced the smaller UNSC ship into three pieces. Combined fire from the naval PPCs of the _Knight_ and MAC rounds from the _Euphrates_ and the _Minotaur_ avenged the UNSC captain's death.

"He sacrificed himself to save us."

"Yeah. He did."

Andrew realized, at that moment, that he had never gotten that captain's name. He had no time for that, however, as two cruisers bore down on him from two directions, port and starboard. However, both those problems were quickly dealt with using a fusillade of naval lasers and gauss slugs.

Then came one of the largest ship classes ever seen in the Covenant forces: a Supercruiser. It charged straight at the _Templar Knight_, apparently intending to ram the older ship before its weapons could recharge. It never got the chance. The _Musashi_ flew in over the spine of the Du Shi Wang and rammed the Covenant vessel, removing the pesky shields with a full MAC barrage. Both ships crumpled against each other.

"Pod launch detected. What do want us to do?"

"Open the cargo bay doors. Maneuver to pick up the survivors. Get the survivors from the _Alliance_ as well."

Supreme Commander Thel Vadam'ee pounded his fist on the arm of his command chair as another cruiser was snapped in half by the alien ship's forward blue-white-beamed energy projectors and thunder cannons. "How can such a small ship carry such power?" Even as he spoke, the weapons of his flagship reached out and carved two of the smallest human ships into several pieces.

"Fore–"

"Do not speak such heresy!"

"Commander, the alien vessel is in weapon range."

"Burn them." He saw the ship start to suddenly spin. Thel wondered what the enemy commander was doing until he noticed that he was being presented the nearly pristine rear armor, which now bore the brunt of _Seeker of Truth_'s firepower. He typed a command into the fire control panel of his station, overriding the safeties of the energy projectors to double their damage output.

"Commander, you will melt the projectors and render us defenseless," objected an aide.

"The destruction of that demonic ship will be worth the sacrifice," the Supreme Commander countered.

Ten seconds later, as the aide had predicted, the energy projectors burned themselves out, but the enemy ship's armor stubbornly refused to yield. And worse news was to come. "Commander, damage is reported in blocks three and eleven directly underneath the energy projectors. The enemy managed to fire back during the barrage."

"Four more ships are moving into position, three of them human; the last is the traitorous assault carrier. The alien ship has rotated to bring most of its weaponry into line with us. It is requesting a communications link."

"Let us see what insults they have to throw at us."

He turned to the holoprojector that was used for shipmaster-to-shipmaster communications and received a shock: the "alien" commander was, in fact, human. He was wearing a white double-breasted uniform bearing a strange, upward-facing-haloed-comet patch on the shoulder. "Greetings, Commander Vadam'ee. As you can see, over a quarter of your fleet lies in ruins. Thus, before the other twenty six warships and eight support ships of my fleet, for which my ship was scouting, arrives, which will happen in less than an hour, I extend to you the offer to retreat with honor." He nodded and his holographic representation disappeared.

For the first time in his life, Thel's blood ran cold at the prospect of a challenge the Covenant couldn't win. The thought that there were more of the demonic ships in human possession was terrifying enough, but that twenty six more of them would arrive very soon…"All ships, disengage and set course for Unyielding Hierophant." He turned to the communications officer. "Put me through." A few seconds later, the human commander's holographic representation reappeared. "You can claim victory…for today. Know this. I shall return. And, when I do, I shall crush your fleet, however strong it is."

"I'd love to see you try." The man bowed his head and the connection was severed.

Commodore Andrew Benavidas slumped against the side of the holotank as he sighed in relief. Then a representation of a Sangheili Admiral appeared in the tank. "Yes, Lor'an?"

"I thought you said that you had come alone and only by accident."

"That's right."

"Then why did you tell the Supreme Commander that there are more ships coming?"

"Where I come from, we call that a tactical bluff."

"You lied?"

Andrew smiled. "If you can convince your enemy that he has no chance to defeat you…"

"…Then you have already won," the Shipmaster completed as he produced his own version of a smile. "That was an ingenious use of misinformation."

"Thank you." As the radar cleared of hostile contacts, he ended the conversation and said, "Get me the surface, please."

A minute later, the gruff voice that was now familiar to the crew came onto the PA. "What do you have to report, _Templar Knight_?"

"Vice Admiral Whitcomb, the local aerospace is clearing."

"That's excellent news, Commodore."

And, uh, could we get a repair gantry out here?"

"Repair facility on its way. Your crew's pretty darn good."

"It wasn't just my crew, sir. The crews of the _Crusader's Hope_, _Musashi_, _Trafalgar_, _Iroquois_, _Minotaur_, _Gettysburg_, _Alliance_, _Euphrates_, and _Aegis Fate_ were all vital. In fact, with your permission, I would like to upgrade the _Trafalgar_, _Minotaur_, and_ Aegis Fate_ with our technology all but immediately."

"Permission granted. This renders the repair gantry unnecessary. Follow those ships to the Aszod Shipyards."

"Understood." He climbed out of the holotank and walked to the helmsman's station. "Damage Control, talk to me."

"Our armor is holding overall. We have a few minor breaches, but we'll survive. Just don't get into another firefight anytime soon. We've only got about twenty percent of our armor remaining."

"Ouch. Detailed armor status?"

"Do you want it from best-to-worst or worst-to-best?"

"Surprise me."

"Well. Aft armor is at two percent, port-aft is at fourteen percent, fore-port is at twenty eight percent, fore at twenty one percent, fore-starboard at twenty five percent, and aft-starboard at thirty five percent."

"At least we're alive," Andrew replied as he turned his ship to follow the surviving UNSC carrier, destroyer, and frigate, passing the wrecks of the five other ships that had accompanied him, but weren't lucky enough to return. "At least we're alive," he repeated as he bowed his head in respect to the dead. He then looked up just in time to see the _Aegis Fate_, _Minotaur_, and the _Trafalgar_ enter Reach's atmosphere. He quickly applied thrust to the lower engines while killing the thrust to the upper ones and keyed the comm. "Vice Admiral Whitcomb, my ship cannot enter atmosphere."

"Well then, how are we going to get the equipment you are going to share with us?"

Andrew thought or a moment before replying, "My own transports." Without waiting for a reply, he asked the comm. tech, "Recall the Excaliburs. Tell them, code: Care Package."

"Understood." After relaying the message to the two dropships, the tech relayed, "They're on their way."

Lor'an's voice came back on. "If you require repairs, we would be honored to provide them."

"How soon could you provide them?"

"How quickly can you come to our position?"

"Radar?"

"_Crusader's Hope_ is holding position a hundred and eight kilometers above us."

"Hold on a moment." He switched back to the channel with Vice Admiral Whitcomb. "Vice Admiral, I have new arrangements for repairs to my vessel. Repair gantry unnecessary," he said as he began to turn toward the Assault Carrier. Changing channels again, he continued, "Lor'an, set the table, 'cause we're coming over to visit. Estimated time of arrival: Twenty seconds. Angels, pick up any survivors you can find that we didn't manage to and return to the surface. Excaliburs, alter your rendezvous point for the cargo bay of the _Crusader's Hope_."

Two sets of replies came back over the comline.


	7. Revelations

"Shipmaster, why do we help the humans when the rest of the Covenant has damned them to be exterminated?" one of the Minors who had joined the crew just before the _Crusader's Hope_'s commander had withdrawn his allegiance to the Covenant.

Lor'an sighed. This wasn't the first time he had been asked that question, but it was never an easy question to answer. "My friend, my experiences during this war have told me that the Prophets have lied to us. I have seen humans able to interact fully with the gifts of the Forerunners without the need to modify those gifts."

"But that still does not–"

"I was once like you," the older Sangheili continued, ignoring the younger's outburst. "Young, obedient, ready to carry out the orders of the Prophets without question. While I was reticent about the fact that they decided to exterminate humanity wholesale without any attempt at asking them to join the Covenant, I accepted the explanation that they were heretics, all. I swallowed the claim that they were destroying millions, even billions, of Forerunner artifacts. To me, at the beginning of the war, the humans were no more than the vermin we made them out to be. However, as massacre after massacre showed me that humans were as determined to defend their homes, despite the odds, as we were when the Covenant was first formed, I began to respect them. Eventually, I committed a minor act of treason; hiding navigational data from one of the ships we boarded that led to a sparsely populated human world. I was able to petition the Prophets to allow me to take my ship, this ship, to investigate that world and exterminate its inhabitants.

"Instead, I made a detailed count of the number of relics my luminary revealed and counted the number of humans that were on the world. My revelation came when both counts turned up the exact same numbers. I reran both counts twice, three times, and the numbers still came back the same.

"At that moment, I realized that the entire premise of the war, that humans were relic-destroying heretics, was false and hypocritical. **We** were destroying relics left behind by the Forerunners every time we killed humans. I carefully examined the glyph that represented 'relic' from new angles and, when I turned it over, I realized that it resembled a being with its arms raised in worship. That was when I realized that the humans were the Forerunners' rightful heirs.

"That led me to another thought and an associated revelation. If the Great Journey was supposed to take all of the Forerunners, then why was this group left behind? And, on that knowledge, how would we know who would be swept along on the Journey this time around? My faith in the Covenant was shaken beyond any hope of recovery. Thus, a few cycles after I had returned from the mission, I deserted the Covenant and began to make my way here."

By the time the Shipmaster had finished speaking, the Du Shi Wang known as the _Templar Knight_ had landed in the massive hangar. Shipmaster Taham stared at the vessel in wonder. Other than its odd shape, incredibly compact construction, and the sheer beating it had withstood, he found himself studying the three insignias emblazoned on its prow, the first two of which had been slashed with paint. The first bore an armored hand wielding a sword inside of a green triangle. The second featured some mammal the Sangheili could not recognize. The third was the same gold-haloed comet the human shipmaster wore on his uniform.

His inspection was interrupted when one of the few remaining intact armor plates shifted outward and slid up along the hull. A human in a white uniform appeared at the newly revealed maintenance hatch, pressed his gauntleted hands against the armor, and literally began to climb down the vessel's hide as if her were an insect. A minute later, the man alighted on the deck of the hangar. "Welcome, Shipmaster Andrew Benavidas."

"My title's actually 'Commodore,' but you use whatever works for you. However, I'd prefer that you just call me Andrew until we figure out how we fit in the local chain of command."

"Right." He thought for a second before pointing at Andrew's gloves and asking, "What anti-gravity technology is contained in those?"

"Oh. Not technically 'anti-gravity,' per se. These are Model 15 gripper gloves. Turn 'em on and press 'em against a surface, and they'll generate enough friction to stick and support a hundred and fifty kilograms."

"Kilograms?"

"Right. You probably don't use the same systems of measurements we do," he admonished himself as he slid one of the gauntlets off of his arm and handed it to the Elite. "A hundred and fifty times that glove's weight. Speaking of gravity, is this hangar a grav deck?"

"Grav deck? No. We have an artificial gravity system built throughout the ship, rendering that technology unnecessary."

"Remarkable," Andrew breathed as his eyebrows raised." At that moment, a floating pink-and-blue alien began to glide past, but it stopped as it spotted the glove. Before Andrew could react to its arrival, the new alien had scooped the Model 15 out of the Sangheili's grasp and began examining it. "Hey! That's Star League vintage! Over three hundred years old! I can't replace it!"

"Easy to Adjust, give the human his gauntlet back." The floating alien whistled complainingly. "Now."

It gave a resigned whistle and extended the tentacle that held the glove toward Andrew. As it laid the glove in his hand, incredibly gently, he threatened, "If you did anything that impedes this glove's function, I'll kill you."

Lor'an chuckled. "You must forgive the Huragok. It is in their nature to experiment with any unfamiliar technology," he explained as he petted the Huragok's head and neck. It almost chirped and its glow brightened in response. "Besides, its kind are the ones repairing your vessel."

Andrew turned and saw a veritable swarm of Huragok drifting around his battleship. He was about to warn them about fiddling with his ship's systems when he saw something remarkable. The Huragok appeared to be rebuilding the damaged armor plates using the once-molten lumps of ferro-carbide that had solidified along the hull. "Hey, Arty, can you double-check the armor condition figures?"

"I doubt they could be any different than when I first reported them to you. After all, we haven't even opened the cargo bay to allow these former Covenant engineers to access our reserve armor plates."

"Just check, please."

"Fine, fine. Just to let you know–" There was a sudden pause on the other end of the radio link, followed by, "Okay, just what in the name of Blake is going on out there?"

"The Covenant's Engineers, known as 'Huragok,' are able to work wonders with technology, wonders we could only dream of."

"I bet."

"_Templar Knight_, this is Excalibur Alpha. We are airborne, and Excalibur Omega is right behind us. ETA: one hour."

"Understood. Set your rendezvous for the hangar bay of _Crusader's Hope_. Chuck, meet me at external access hatch 33a with a map of the Inner Sphere loaded onto a data cube."

"Yes, sir." His tone betrayed his apprehension about sharing that kind of information with people they'd only recently heard of, let alone met. Still, when Andrew had climbed up to the hatch, Charles "Chuck" Yeager (descendant of the legendary pilot of the same name) was waiting, data cube in hand. As he handed the eight cubic centimeter data storage block to the Commodore, he said, "I hope you know what you're doing, sir."

"Me too." He climbed down the hull and asked Lor'an, "Where on this ship could I view navigation data?"

"Right this way," the Shipmaster replied as he turned and began to walk toward one of the doors that led deeper into the assault carrier, Andrew following a few paces behind. A few aliens that most resembled ancient Terran raptors (the class of dinosaurs, not the birds) leered hungrily at the human, but a roaring bark from their superior officer shut them up. He muttered what Andrew guessed was curse in the Sangheili's native tongue. "Kig-yar. They think of food constantly and see every battle as an opportunity to hunt for food. Anyway, our destination requires us to shift our direction of travel upward."

"Well, where do we board the elevator?"

Lor'an walked over to a control panel, chuckling, "We already have."

"What?" Andrew asked as he looked for the doors that prevented the careless from falling down the elevator shaft, but found none.

"This is true anti-gravity," Lor'an finished just before pressing the activation button.

Andrew felt as though the floor had just dropped away below him. As he looked around, his yelp of surprise transformed into a whoop of excitement as he realized that he was swiftly floating up the elevator shaft. About twenty decks later, the lift gently thrust him out of the shaft and onto the deck, so gently, in fact, that he did not even lose his balance as he landed. When the Shipmaster arrived a second later, the Commodore stated, "If we get enough time, I'm going to replace each elevator in my ship with one of those!"

"When that time comes, my Huragok shall assist."

They passed several more Sangheili who saluted the Shipmaster; Andrew recognized that it was a salute because of its striking similarity to the salute used by the warriors of House Kurita's Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, and, out of respect, returned the salute. Two of them, wearing blue armor, appeared to be confused by the gesture. As the two leaders continued on, Andrew asked, "What was their problem?"

"They are of Minor rank. No one salutes them. They only outrank the Kig-yar, who do not have the honor to salute, and the Unggoy, who are too slothful."

"Unggoy?"

"Them," Lor'an stated as he pointed out four said aliens waddling through the intersection ahead of them.

"What's with the masks and backpacks?"

"Their home planet's atmosphere has a high concentration of the gas you humans call methane, which they have evolved to breath and rely on. However, the concentration they require is at such a level that other species would suffocate. Thus, we provide the Unggoy with breathing harnesses that infuse their every breath with the appropriate amount of methane."

The human was about to inquire further, but a noise that sounded line a cross between a grunt and a roar caught his attention. He looked up to see the source of the sound…just in time to avoid running into one of the two battlearmored troopers guarding the next door. Or, rather, he thought they were battlesuits until he saw the exposed orange flesh at the beast's neck. Each leveled a massive arm-mounted energy cannon in his specific direction; he knew that, if they decided to fire, he would be a lump of charcoal inside of a second.

Lor'an's hand on Andrew's shoulder appeared to appease them, for they lowered their weapons. "Mgalekgolo," the Shipmaster explained. "They are the heaviest footsoldiers of the Covenant. On ships, we task them to guard important locations, such as…" The door cycled open to reveal an expansive room occupied by numerous Sangheili, Kig-yar, and Unggoy and two Huragok. "…the Bridge. For your purposes, you can use the holotank near the front."

"Okay." He walked over to the pedestal that the holoprojector was embedded in. He examined it, but he could not find a slot to plug in the data cube. Frowning, Andrew asked, "Can Huragok handle data transfers?"

A Sangheili Minor, whose helmet narrowed more gradually to the front than most of the Sangheili warriors, nodded and whistled to one of the floating aliens, which glided over to the pedestal. "We need the information stored in this…" The female Elite stopped as she fumbled for the right words.

"Data cube," Andrew supplied.

"…transferred to the holotank."

The Huragok whistled its acceptance of the task and began to work. The tip of one of its tentacles wrapped around the data storage unit while another tentacle connected the Huragok to the projector. Andrew saw a few cracks form in the data cube's shell, a stream of smaller spots of light flowed up the tentacle, and, a second later, an expansive holographic star field sprang into existence. Several members of the formerly Covenant Bridge crew gasped in awe, especially the Kig-yar.

"Are all of those–?"

"Human colonies? Yes." He pointed at one specific star system. "We're here. Epsilon Eridani. Could you overlay one of your star maps, using where we are as a reference point?"

The Elite nodded and, still staring at the map of the Inner Sphere and the Exodus Road, entered a command into the holotank, temporarily merging the navigational charts of both ships. Immediately, the names of most of the stars vanished. Those that remained were recolored.

"Judging by Epsilon Eridani's coloring, I'd assume that human worlds have green names."

"Correct."

"And the violet represents Covenant worlds. Their ships are the same color."

"Excellent insight."

"But what was the black mean?"

The female Elite refused to answer. Instead, she looked away, as if in shame.

After a momentary awkward silence, Lor'an provided, "Those are worlds that have been 'cleansed.'" He spit out the last word as though it were poisoned.

"'Cleansed?'"

"Sterilized through the use of orbital bombardment."

Andrew's jaw dropped as he counted how many systems had been physically devastated by the Covenant. "Oh my God." He then noticed that Terra had gone blank. "At least our home world has been spared their wrath. The Covenant shall pay for what they have done," he added as he clenched his fists.

"They shall. I believe I know where the capitol city is and shall be for the next few months," Lor'an encouraged.

"Their capitol is a mobile city?"

"_High Charity_ is a massive support ship, able to dwarf any warship deployed by the Covenant."

"Well, for when the UNSC authorizes a strike against the Covenant capitol, this '_High Charity_,' I shall need design details to figure out how best to strike for maximum effect." Andrew finished with a growled, "Let them have the same mercy they have shown the human race."


	8. High Priority Target

8/15/2552

Kusovai stood with Aeranna and ten other human soldiers in the cargo area of one of the unit's "Cobra" transports, watching how swiftly they passed one landmark after another. These "VTOLs" were faster than the Banshee flyers, even if the boost was activated. He turned and looked at his "allies" for this assault.

The four warriors closest to him and Aeranna were also the quietest. They were members of a semi-independent guerilla warfare unit called the "Dragonslayers." Their armor, especially that of their leader Chu-sa Renee Al-Lanna, bore the scars of hundreds of battles, showing just how good they were. Rumors among the other members of River's infantry suggested that the Dragonslayers had killed a career total of eighty-eight BattleMechs. Kusovai had seen several of the massive two- and four-legged war machines these humans had brought with them and was genuinely impressed with the four warriors. Slaying one of the mechanized behemoths would be a challenge. Eighty-eight kills was a Herculean accomplishment.

The seventh human was one of the UNSC Spartans, callsign Jessica-08. Despite being one of the "Demons" Supreme Commander Vadam'ee had told of, she was, when counting armor, the smallest warrior in the transport. She had also chosen an unusual assortment of weapons. Attached to her hip armor plates was a pair of human "M6C" pistols. While that was not unusual, the weapon she currently held in her hands most certainly was.

It had come from the new humans' armory. They had officially called it a heavy flechette pistol. What had intrigued Kusovai most was the nickname they had given the weapon: Needler. It carved its projectiles from a single block of ballistic material and could spew projectiles at a precipitous rate, like the Covenant weapon of the same name. All resemblance between the two weapons, however, ended there. While the Covenant Needler used a pink, crystalline, explosive material for its projectiles, the human version used what they called a "ballistic polymer;" that apparently meant a metallic dust alloyed with a soft synthetic material.

Back on topic, the smallest armored warrior was balanced out by the largest. Meike Steiner, wearing the so-called "Predator IV" armor. When she had been introduced, River had added, "No relation." Judging it to be referring to something from their home, Kusovai simply nodded and let the subject drop. Her armor, however, was worth a description. The suit was massively armored, with well over a quarter of its two-ton weight devoted to its armored shell. The core of its firepower consisted of a pair of heavy rifles (about two-thirds equal to the 90-millimeter cannon mounted on the UNSC Scorpion tank) mounted on its shoulders. Supplementing the rifles were a high-caliber submachine gun and a curved vibroblade attached to the armored forearms. Idly, Kusovai wondered how large a horde of Jiralhanae one such suit would carve through before being brought down.

The second-smallest suits in the task force were the two "Predator II" armors used by Lieutenant Jason Cho and his second, Sergeant Troy Lambert. Their battlearmor was half the size of Aeranna's ton-and-a-half "Predator VI" suit, was armed with a much smaller rifle, and possessed a shell of sophisticated sensor-defeating armor a little more than half as thick. Balancing out those factors was the fact that the lighter suit traded a jump pack for a higher ground speed, and it also possessed a wrist-mounted vibro-blade and the ability to carry twenty kilograms of mission-specific equipment; for this mission, the Sergeant was toting enough explosives to "level a good-size factory," while the Lieutenant had a missile launcher of some time slid into the cargo bay of his suit. They also wielded wrist-mounted flechette pistols.

Next in the detachment was a mountain of a man called Jondarr, no last name. Not much was known about his past, but River trusted and said that only Aeranna and herself were better warriors. That was good enough for the Sangheili warrior. As for the armor he wore, he used the second-oldest design of any of the battlearmors in the VTOL: the "Predator I," fire variant. A "small" laser cannon (apparently with a power yield exactly half that of the UNSC infantry laser) was mounted on its shoulder, and a "plasma rifle" the size of a plasma launcher was mounted under-slung of the forearm. It's armored shell, however, was the most noteworthy feature. The suit was sheathed in a half a ton of mimetic (color-changing) camouflage armor. It mounted a blade of its own on the wrist; unlike the later suits in the series, the Predator I's blade lacked curves of any kind. Beyond that was the same flechette pistol most of the others used. Underneath the armor was, supposedly, a bewildering array of sensors that made it the best reconnaissance suit in the unit.

Rounding out the (Kusovai believed the term was) rag-tag detachment was the newest of the Predator suits: number VII, worn by William Freeland. His armor's most unique feature was its quadrupedal design, giving it a top speed of fifty-four kilometers per hour, and its special targeting laser, which allowed it to direct artillery missiles with enough precision to hit and devastate moving targets. His primary weapon was a medium-class rifle mounted along the battlearmor's spine. Backing up the rifle was a pair of flechette pistols. It was rather well armored, the thickness falling about midway between that of suits I and II of the series, and, with William controlling it, it appeared to live up to its name, moving with an almost animalistic grace.

That train of thought led Kusovai to examine his own selection of weapons. For long-range engagements, he possessed a needle rifle. Even though the rifle was being phased out in favor of the new, smaller, simpler, more powerful carbine (which fired micro-fuel rod projectiles), Kusovai preferred the older weapon for its superior accuracy, ammunition capacity, and, of course, the supercombination explosion that tore apart any unshielded target struck by three needles in rapid succession.

For medium- and closer-range combat, he wielded a pair of plasma rifles, granting him the ability to deliver a withering amount of firepower against his enemies.

Finally, for when the enemy got too close for weapons' fire to be effective, he still wielded his energy sword. As far as he had been able to figure out, the comparison between the energy blade and River's vibrokatana went thus:

Both weapons were battery-powered blades that could carve through armor and flesh with equal ease.

The energy sword held advantages in compact size and length of battery life. When turned off, the energy blade consisted only of its two-hand-width hilt, which fit easily onto the magnetic hip plate of the Sangheili combat harness. The vibrokatana, however, was longer than a human leg, on or off. Also, the energy blade only discharged energy from its battery when it struck a target, while the katana bled energy for every second that it was activated.

The human weapon did have advantages over its Covenant counterpart. First and foremost, because the plasma sword drained its battery with every strike, it became all but useless after only about ten kills. The vibroblade, on the other hand, only needed to be turned on when the target was armored. Against lesser targets, the metal core of the blade was enough to kill.

Interrupting his reverie, the pilot announced, "Nine hundred meters to target, sir."

"Roger that," Aeranna replied. Switching to the channel that had been agreed upon for exclusive use by the twelve-soldier boarding team and added, "Twenty seconds to target. Prepare to disembark."

Immediately, the few warriors who were sitting down stood as straight as an honor guard's energy pike. "Approaching the drop point. Two hundred twenty-five meters and evading incoming fire."

"I am fully aware of that. Legionnaires, disembark…now!" the Captain replied as several plasma bolts flew past a second before she leapt out of the VTOL. Within five seconds, the other eleven warriors on the transport had followed her out and dropped down to the Scarab's deck.

Kusovai had chosen this particular Command Scarab for just as particular a reason: it was crewed by Jiralhanae, not Sangheili. By chance, his leap dropped him onto the shoulders of a Minor. Before he landed, Kusovai drew and ignited his energy sword and plunged it into the Brute's back as he landed. He looked up to see Demon dodge the blade of a Brute Shot.

Then she aimed her flechette pistol at its arm and head and stroked the trigger. Surprisingly, the weapon didn't unleash the usual staccato bark that Kusovai associated with human weapons. Nor did its report mimic that of the Covenant Needler. Instead, it coughed. However, the damage it wrought horrified the Elite. The Jiralhanae's arm and half of its face were shredded into a bloody pulp and it bellowed in pain (the first time Kusovai had ever heard that particular sound). Before it could recover, Jessica drove her armored fist through the beast's weakened skull.

She tossed the heavy pistol into the air, drew the M6s, annihilated a dozen Kig-yar shield-bearers, kicked another off of the Scarab as she reloaded, slid the high-caliber weapons back onto her suit's hip armor plates, grabbed the needler out of the air, and slaughtered three Unggoy, all in the course of four seconds.

Kusovai was able to experience a moment of stunned appreciation for the accomplishment combined with horror at the damage the needler was able to wreak before he was forced to seek cover from a spike rifle-wielding Minor. He ducked behind a metal pillar, drew his plasma rifles, and contemplated what to do next. It hit him vaguely that there were no metal pillars on the decks of Scarabs. Then the "pillar" shifted. As he attempted to figure out the incongruity, he heard the distinct sound of shearing metal and a Jiralhanae Captain's corpse crashed to the deck at his feet. He looked over at the Minor just in time to see the Brute pitch backward, a Brute Shot buried bayonet-first in its skull. He then realized that he had taken cover behind Meike, who then threw that particular Brute Shot. "Thank the gods that she considers me an ally," the Elite muttered as he pumped over a dozen bolts of cyan plasma into a Kig-yar sharpshooter.

Then the air over his shoulder superheated and an odd scent kissed his nose. Combat instinct told Kusovai to duck and roll out of the estimated line of fire. That instinct proved correct when, as he moved, a sphere of liquid fire the size of his fist flew past. The Sangheili was able to follow the projectile with his eyes until it splashed across the chest of a Brute Chieftain whose shield flickered on the edge of breaking.

Before he could watch that Jiralhanae's fate, his motion tracker pointed out that there was an enemy attempting to sneak up on him. He rolled away and up to one knee, plasma rifles ready to burn down the impudent foe. Then the shockwave hit him. As he was involuntarily lifted into the air, Kusovai realized that it had been another Brute Chieftain, this one a hammer-user, that had nearly snuck up on him. While his shield fully absorbed the blow, the secondary effect of the gravity hammer's swing still rammed into him with full force. The gravitic shockwave sent him flying toward the edge of the Scarab's deck. The Elite calculated that he would continue his flight clear over the edge, and he decided to take the Chieftain down before he went and began to deliver bolt after bolt of plasma to the Jiralhanae. The dual plasma rifles overheated as he went over the side. As he fell, he saw that the Brute's shield had burst and a large portion of its cuirass had been melted away, but the beast still lived.

_I failed_. Suddenly, his movement was fully arrested by a strong grim on his ankle. Due to the sudden stop, his primary weapons were wrenched from his hands; his sword and needle rifle remained on his person only by virtue of the magnetic armor plates they were attached to.

"I cannot afford your loss, Private." He heard a deep, booming gunshot. "Not that I wish to see any warrior under my command perish," Aeranna added as she lifted Kusovai from the jaws of oblivion.

At that moment, as she dropped him onto the stable metal, Jessica walked up and reported, "Deck is secure, sir."

"Good work."

"But we've hit a barrier. Literally."

"It is uncommon for a crew to activate the command shield," Kusovai muttered.

Aeranna simply laughed. "That is the reason we brought two of our engineers." She brushed past them and strode to the ramp that led to the command compartment. "Assessment, Lieutenant?"

Cho sighed. "Need I remind you that I was born of nobility and demand to be treated as per my station, canister-born?"

"And need I remind **you** that your station has not existed for eighteen years? Since the Liberty Revolution?"

The smaller man winced. "Don't remind me." He then cleared his throat and changed the subject back to Aeranna's original query. "The shield is unique. It is able to completely disperse kinetic, explosive, plasma, and thermal energy without threat of failing."

"The generators?"

"Armored and hidden."

"Right on the inside of the entryway," Bero supplied. "Bottom and top."

"Got it. Lambert, pent it."

"Pent?" the Sangheili warrior asked as Aeranna led him out of the way of the Sergeant.

"Pentaglycerin," the Captain explained, "The most powerful non-nuclear explosive known to man. Twenty kilograms of it." At that, the Spartan audibly gulped.

When the engineers, with Kusovai's direction, finished placing the demolition charges, the three of them came running out relaying the appropriate warning to stay out of the blast radius.

Seconds later, all twelve warriors of the detachment were assembled on both sides of, but well away from, the tunnel, crouching to minimize the buffeting they would receive from the blast wave. When they had confirmed that everyone was as far out of the blast radius as they could be, Troy muttered, "Kaboom," and triggered the charges. A sound that rivaled that of an exploding Phantom or Wraith erupted from the command access tunnel, followed shortly there after by tongues of flame five to ten times as long as Kusovai was tall.

Immediately after the flames subsided and the debris settled, Cho slid his missile launcher out of the cargo slot of his armor and onto his shoulder and moved toward the command room. As he aimed down the tunnel, he asked, "Hey, Private. Will the controls get cooked by fire?"

"I do not believe they will be damaged–"

"Good. Back-blast clear!" He waited two seconds and then pulled the trigger. Immediately, a gout of smoke and flame half as tall as a human, as wide as the weapon was long, and longer than Kusovai was tall spewed from the rear vent of the launcher, while the twin barrels each disgorged a missile the size of Kusovai's arm. However, when they detonated, the sound was not the deep rumbling roar he expected. Instead, a pair of pops wafted out of the command room, followed by the odd sound of splashing liquids embedded within the more expected sound of a fire igniting.

Then came the screams. To be merciful, Kusovai drew a plasma grenade from his bandolier, primed it, and tossed it into the command room, which glowed orange from the fires burning within. Jessica added a fragmentation grenade and Aeranna and Jason added explosive rifle rounds to the mix. When the four explosives detonated, the screams stopped.

The Elite took a step forward, ready to man the controls, but the Elemental put a hand on his shoulder and ordered, "Wait until the flames die down."

A full minute passed before the flames died. When they did, they left nothing but soot and piles of ash. But the acrid smell of burnt flesh still filled the air to the point that Kusovai's sinuses stung and he had to force himself to not gag. Mentally blocking the sensation, he walked over to the driver's console. Quickly, he attuned his HUD to the external cameras and began to turn the ponderous assault platform toward the agreed rendezvous point. "We are under way."

"Good." She turned and continued, using her radio, "Colonel, the Package–"

"Captain!"

"Hold on. What is the matter, Chu-sa?"

"We've got a serious problem," the Dragonslayers' leader replied as he beckoned with his suit's battle claw.

"That I gathered, freeborn," Aeranna retorted as she followed the Kuritan warrior out to the main deck. "Explain."

"There," Renee replied as he pointed toward the eastern sky.

When her eyes followed the direction he indicated, Aeranna saw a massive Covenant warship soaring gracefully overhead. Then an object dropped from the violet vessel and plowed into the ground, creating a debris-filled cloaking aura. When the dust cleared, the objects outlines sharpened into the shape of another Command Scarab. "Savashri! Colonel, a Covenant warship just hot-dropped a Scarab in very close proximity to the one we captured. Request permission to engage."

"Denied. Stand down. They're a rogue unit, similar to the Wolves-in-Exile and the Nova Cats. By the way, congratulations on a successful op. Report to Major Pinter for your debrief."


	9. The Tide Begins to Turn

Meanwhile, on a low rooftop overlooking one of the main roads leading to the city's starport, two armored warriors lay on the edge, surveying a Covenant patrol through the scopes of their rifles. "Who do you want?" the smaller warrior wearing green armor that had a small amount of camouflage netting along the neck and additional sniper rifle rounds strapped to the shoulders.

"Whoever you don't," the larger warrior, who had a one-hundred-seventy-five-kilogram recoilless rifle attached to his back and the dual mosquito-wing insignia of a corporal, replied.

"Fair enough," Jun acknowledged as he took aim with his SRS99.

"But I call dibs on the Wraith," the Corporal demanded as she sighted in with her Jupiter rifle.

"If your weapon can do the job, be my guest," the Warrant Officer replied as he took his first shots.

He was answered by the crack of Corporal Linda Perry's rifle as it accelerated its .69-caliber slug to Mach 3. As Noble Team's sniper watched, the hypersonic, seven-hundred-grain nickel-iron projectile punched into and through the driver's hatch of the Wraith; the former crumpled around the bullet's impact point, while the latter ground to a halt as its driver died.

Jun, trying not to be too upstaged by the Legionnaire sniper, drilled a round into the exhaust vent of a Ghost, which exploded and flipped the Revenant driving next to it, which, in turn, crushed a couple of Grunts.

Linda's shot came to fruition a few seconds later, but it was worth it when she pulled the trigger. The .69-caliber, nickel-iron, one-point-six-ounce dart slammed into the protective cowl of another Ghost, flipping it into the air. Its trajectory put it directly in the flight path of a passing Banshee. Unable to turn quickly enough or stop, the flier's pilot tried to fly over the ascending hovercraft, but it was too late and both craft collided.

The moment the two armored shells collided, Linda's gauss rifle cracked out another nickel-iron slug that burrowed into the exhaust vent of the Ghost. The Banshee exploded in sympathy with the recon/strike vehicle, and the wreckage tumbled amongst the scattering Covenant patrol, trailing bits of alloy and white-blue-violet fire.

As the Covy infantry dodged out of the path of the carnage, both human snipers cut down eight warriors of various ranks and races; one of Perry's shots glanced off of a Jackal's shield and punched through the sides of two others. Then Jun noticed one Elite, its leg pinned under the toppled Revenant, moving its mandibles in the way they did when the split-lips spoke, and it was not high-ranking enough to be giving orders. He swung his rifle into line, but a glance at his HUD's ammunition display reminded him that his SRS was empty. "Elite. By the Revenant. Calling for help," he stated simply as he reloaded.

*Crack* "Not anymore," the female sniper coldly announced as the Sangheili's shield burst, and its head and neck were torn away.

Then their radios crackled to life. "UNSC _Aegis__Fate_ here on my way to Aszod. I have eyes on a pair of fast assault Scarabs inbound on the spaceport bearing 194. ETA: Twelve minutes. I don't have enough room to maneuver for a shot, so you're on your own."

"Negative on that. Angel Flight inbound. We only have enough armor and fuel for one run, but we'll pound 'em as hard as we can."

"Thanks. We'll try to capitalize on that airstrike," the Corporal replied and closed the comm. link. She then looked at the Warrant Officer and stated, "Well, you heard them. Bearing 194 will take 'em right past us. Do you wanna get help, or do you wanna try to lone-wolf these kills?" as she loaded a new clip into her rifle and rammed it home.

"Fewer warriors, more glory. Besides, I think we can take them by ourselves."

Meanwhile, several hundred kilometers away, Alan "Apollo" Van Karten, AeroMajor and commander of the twenty nine other pilots of Angel Flight, relayed orders to his fellows. "V formations, three fighters each. Paladins first. Alpha Squadron, Air Lance 3-Kappa, concentrate fire on the Scarabs' anti-air turrets. Crusaders next. Delta Squadron, Air Lance 1-Kappa, focus your firepower on the rear armor of the rearguard Scarab. Beta and Gamma Squadrons, annihilate the survivors. Hawkeye, I want you with me. Guide my Arrows into any chinks we find." Twenty eight acknowledgements came in over the radio and Hawkeye's acknowledgement light winked green.

That man was an odd one. He'd signed on just before the Invasion of Terra, and he hadn't spoken a word, ever, to Alan's knowledge. From his name and looks, he appeared to have come from one of the worlds in what was now the Ghost Bear Dominion. Despite his mysterious origins, Baraek Kiereson was an extraordinarily skilled aerospace fighter pilot, especially in the light, fast, and nimble Crusader. During the battle of Terra, he had downed one Rusalka, two Shades, and assisted a group of Ghost Bear pilots destroy a Leopard pocket warship. In fact, Baraek's abilities rivaled those of the Manei Domini and Clan pilots; several of the latter group had actually issued Trials of Possession for him, but Alan's Paladin was able to outmaneuver and outlast the Clan Jenghiz and Kirghiz fighters.

Interrupting his musings, one of the AeroLieutenants, Jeumann Goering, warned, "AA Wraiths! Lots of 'em!"

"Understood. Paladins, evasive maneuvers. Crusaders, abort. Mujahiden, target those Wraiths." Amidst the acknowledgements was a gun-cam image from Hawkeye showing a three-quarters rear view. Most prominent in the image was the oversized maintenance hallway leading straight to the glowing, half-exposed reactor. "Arrow loosed," the Major stated simply as he pulled the trigger for the Arrow IV. He then shoved the control stick forward and to the left, corkscrewing into a four and a half gee dive that brought his fighter roaring over the armor formation at over seventeen hundred kilometers per hour. As he dove, he reassigned his lasers to be evenly split between two target interlock circuits and assigned his Arrow IV missile artillery system to a third TIC. At the bottom of the dive, as a dumb-fire Arrow missile fell into the loading channel with a clunk, Alan targeted two individual Wraiths and one cluster and pulled the trigger and tapped two of the four firing studs on his joystick. The lasers scythed their way through their targets and both tanks fell apart. The artillery missile detonated a meter above the ground and tore apart all of the Wraiths within forty five meters of the blast.

As his fighter was buffeted by the impacts of a couple of fuel rod projectiles (and the near-misses of several others), the combined firepower of Beta and Gamma squadrons smashed and tore into the remaining Wraiths and the lead Scarab. Gauss slugs, Swarm LRMs, and Rockets pummeled several Wraiths into scrap. Inferno SRMs bathed another dozen tanks in napalm. Autocannon shells, the liquid fire of Plasma rounds, and Laser and PPC bolts pulverized and melted armor plating along the Scarab's top and sides; the right legs took an especially heavy pounding, nearly taking the rear limb off at the knee and permanently damaging the joint. Then, as Angel Flight accelerated away for repair, refueling, and rearmament, the rearguard Scarab exploded; Alan's first, homing, Arrow had struck home. The blast wave finished the job on the leg that the fighters had started, and the lead Scarab collapsed, minus the right rear limb.

"Strafing run complete. Have a nice day, snipers," the AeroMajor announced as the walker struggled to regain its footing.

"Roger that. I'm sure we'll enjoy the results, Apollo," Corporal Perry replied. Chuckling, she turned to Jun and added, "Be ready for some up-close-and-personal combat, Spartan." She armed the Sunbeam laser pistol attached to her left wrist, the Light Recoilless Rifle on her right shoulder (which slid up along its storage rails and locked into place, partially embedded in the thickened shoulder plate), and the vibro-blade on her right wrist.

Jun drew his combat knife and an M7 submachine gun. By the warriors slid their sniper rifles onto the carrying plate of their armor.

When the remaining Scarab walked into view, the Spartan gasped in wonder. Seeing one of the Covenant's most powerful war machines limping along on three legs and missing most of its armor was certainly heartening proof of the thirty-first-century's advancements in firepower.

"Let's get to a lower floor. Less of a drop to get to the target. Plus, the shattered glass should scatter any remaining resistance on top of the Scarab," Jun suggested.

"Good idea."

Both armored warriors raced down the stairwell, taking no more than two steps per flight, until they reached the fourth floor. There, they waited by the street-side window for their prey to pass. When the massive quad passed less than a story below them, they pounced. Surprisingly (in both directions of the term), the only resistance they encountered were an Elite Ultra (whose shield had permanently shorted out during the strafing run) and a gunner Grunt, which were put down by a long burst from Jun's sub-gun and a single bolt from Angela's Sunbeam, respectively.

The Spartan prepared to head down the central corridor to finish off any remaining Covies, but the Corporal stopped him with, "There's no one alive down there. One of our pilots put an Arrow artillery missile up this Scarab's keister." They walked to the small alcove that partially concealed the reactor.

Perry leveled her "Daisy" (as Legionnaires affectionately nicknamed the Light Recoilless Rifle) at the shield, but it was Jun's turn to stop his fellow sniper. "Wait a moment. Let me check on something." He looked on the left side of the battlewalker and shouted in confirmation of his suspicions. Angela heard a metallic crumpling sound, and the Spartan returned carrying a deployable Plasma Cannon. "Why use our weapons when Covy weapons are in such ready supply?" he asked as he opened fire. In seconds, the plasma had shattered the shield and melted the coolant lines around the reactor core.

As the warning klaxon began to blare, the two warriors began galloping at thirty-two kilometers per hour away from the doomed war machine. They took cover behind the flipped Revenant as the metal monster detonated.

As she stood and surveyed the devastation, Corporal Perry beamed. "Well done, Spartan," she congratulated as she gave Jun a high-five.

Over two hundred thirty klicks away, another Scarab was spitted by a set of crosshairs. In the cockpit of his Independence Weaponry-built GUN-1ERD _Gunslinger_, Captain Leroy Jenkins tightened his grip on the triggers of his twin Dragon's Fire gauss rifles in anticipation, but he held his fire. "Turn around, you bastard," he muttered, low enough to keep the voice-activated microphone from broadcasting. However, the Covenant 'Mech obstinately ignored his wishes. He sighed, "Hammer One, I'm gonna need a rabbit."

"Roger that," the Lieutenant replied as he set his massive _Grand__Titan_ into motion. Its sixty-five-kph top speed did not sound terribly impressive…until you considered that the enormous Battlemech weighed one hundred tons, the maximum mass for a 'Mech, which meant that it also had, at its heart, the largest fusion engine that could fit in a 'Mech: the LTV 400 extra-light. While many mechwarriors frowned on extra-light engines as overly fragile, there was no objection to the thirteen- or twenty-six-ton weight advantage the 400 XL held over sturdier light and standard engines (respectively) of the same rating.

As the tail end of that thought passed through Jenkins's skull, Lieutenant Gates thrust his _Titan_'s left arm toward the Scarab and a volley of fifteen LRMs screamed out of the boxy, wrist-mounted launcher. Ninety meters from their target, each missile separated into four smaller missiles, and forty-eight of those missiles peppered the stationary war machine; the remaining twelve scattered the infantry.

As William looped back toward friendly lines, the Scarab gave chase, as planned. Leroy waited until the secondary targeting reticule, representing his _Gunslinger_'s Victory 23R Medium Lasers, also burned the same golden hue of target lock that the gauss rifles had had for the past four hundred meters, and then he ordered, "Charlie Company, open fire!" He used the military lettering system to name the companies, while the other commanders named them numerically.

Within ten seconds, the Scarab was deluged with enough gauss slugs, autocannon shells, missiles, and laser and PPC bolts to fell a small warship. The Covenant quad never stood a chance. By the time the fusillade ended, the war machine's main gun was slag, three of its legs (and most of its armor) had been blown off, it was bleeding Lekgolo like a sieve, and its anti-air turret was hanging off the back by just a couple of cables. Then the entire Scarab detonated.

As the dust settled, Leroy ordered, "Sound off!"

"Hammer One, lost a little armor, but I'm still here."

"Anvil Three, sittin' pretty."

"This is Aisa. I am fine."

"Bullseye here. Let's do that again!"

Seven other acknowledgements came in over the comms, and the Captain stated, "Camp Four is at our mercy. Let it burn."

In New Alexandria's starport, a message came in that put a damper on the successes. Kat found a return on the radar that she had been looking for for a while. "Do you copy? Repeat, this is Noble Two. Noble Five, Noble Six, do you copy?"

Then came the reply she wanted. "This is Six. Go ahead, Noble Two."

Partially suppressing a sigh of relief, Kat explained, "We picked up your transponder less than half an hour ago, but did not have time to try open comms. The Covenant is putting up a stubborn fight. We're getting nothing from Jorge."

"He didn't make it." River, standing next to Kat, thought the tone of that reply was a mix of bitterness and…disappointment?

"Understood," Kat replied. Keeping her mourning out of her tone, she changed the subject. "What's the situation at starport exit?"

"The last transport is away," Six replied with a slight tinge of pride in a mostly neutral tone.

"All right. We're bringing you to us."


End file.
